


The Helpful Lie

by aba_daba_do



Series: Transcendence AU-- the Abaverse [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aba_daba_do/pseuds/aba_daba_do
Summary: Every good parent lies to their child sometimes. But not every parent lies about being a demon, or their child being their age-old enemy.
Series: Transcendence AU-- the Abaverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703785
Comments: 106
Kudos: 218
Collections: TAU Discord Recs





	1. The Story So Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Welcome to my fic.   
> If you are unfamiliar with Transcendence AU I beg you to not start here. Instead check out the Tumblr blog @ transcendence-au and find the wiki page. I promise it will help a lot. I'm also writing another fic What Is Dark Within Me, Illumine that should help ease newcomers into the world of TAU.

There is a man who lives in your very normal town in the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes you see him on the street or at the supermarket. And though he doesn’t pay much mind to you, you get the feeling that he knows something. 

When you look at him, you feel slightly unnerved. It starts in your gut and slowly rises up your back, an uncertainty that this man is up to no good despite an outwardly friendly demeanor of someone whom you might invite to get lunch with you on Wednesday. There is nothing wrong with him at all, but the longer you stare you think there must be something. Something about the curve of his smile or his perfect posture. 

That man is the demon Alcor, Lord of Nightmares, Twin Star, 3 time Monster-Mon champion circa 2016, 2017, 2018, and owner of several other unimportant titles. 

And he is currently teaching his son how to ride a bike. 

Disclaimer: the child is not the anti-Christ or any other kind of demonic spawn, though has some notable similarities. 

None of it should have ever happened: Alcor finding an orphaned child covered in blood that was not his own; and then deciding on a whim that instead of destroying the child, he might see better results if he tried raising it. 

Alcor lies to the boy, just as any other father would, saying that he’s not going to let go of the seat. But of course, at some point he will let go and let his son free pedal down the street and treat the experience as some kind of metaphor about life. 

It is disturbingly normal. 

“Promise me I won’t fall,” his son says. 

“Kiddo, there is no way I will let you fall.” 

Bikes are different than he remembers them being when he was young. Everything changes over time; but he felt sure bikes couldn’t and shouldn’t get anymore elaborate. Now they can hover and light up, this particular model has extra balancing runes for new riders. But, it is a bike all the same. 

He leans over and whispers to his son, “You can do it, Toby.” 

Toby grips to the handlebars and pedals, first slowly and then with more vigor. Alcor keeps up behind, neither sweating nor breathing heavy, and when Toby has kept speed and balance long enough— he lets go, just like any other lying father. And Toby continues to pedal. 

“You got it! Now ease on the breaks and take one foot off the pedal! Like we practiced!” He calls. 

Toby does just that, albeit shakily and with hesitation. Looking over his shoulder, Toby realizes he had been lied to and that his father did let go, but that he rode a bike all on his own. There’s some confusion, followed by betrayal, and then some pride. 

“You did it, Toby!” Alcor cheers as his son grows giddy and then grabs the bike to ride back the 9 foot distance between him and his dad, this time with more confidence. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo!” He puts on hand on his son’s helmet. 

“You lied!” 

“Yeah you caught me. I’m a big liar, but I had to lie. You wouldn’t have done it all on your own if I said I would let go. It was a helpful lie.” 

There’s one other complication. Toby is the reincarnated soul of Alcor’s age old enemy Bill Cipher and that Alcor used to be a human named Dipper Pines. 

Toby doesn’t know the truth about himself or his father. He’s being lied to. 

But it’s a helpful lie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I wrong to say Toby is the baby yoda of TAU? (No. I'm not.) 
> 
> So this is a fic I never thought I would write. When I started looking more deeply into TAU I found a Toby fic, but it assumed I already knew the backstory and I was so confused and very frustrated. Confused to the point where I texted my group chat at 4 am "Who the **** is Toby?". I was very tired. And my friend group has teased me about this since. 
> 
> But good news for them. I know who Toby is now.


	2. Safety First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper poses as a demonologist at the primary school's safety demonstration.

“It’s a chicken wing, not a toy. Quit playing with your food,” Dipper scolded from across the table. 

Toby chewed a few more times and then swallowed. His spicy chicken wing was gnawed at and shredded until it looked more like a crime scene from a serial killer than food. “I want the bones to be clean so I can keep them,” he replied. 

“And why would you want to keep them?” 

“I like knowing what things look like on the inside!” He bit down on his chicken wing and tore a shred of meat off with his teeth. He spoke while chewing. “Maybe I’ll make something out of them.” 

This statement made Dipper feel slightly unnerved as he shifted in his chair and leaned forward, as if prepared to pounce. “When did you get so interested in bones, hmm?” 

“In school today, Ms. Daley taught us about skeletons! They’re really cool. Bones have this stuff inside of them called marrow, did you know that?” 

Dipper chuckled, the tension in his shoulders loosened, “I didn’t.” He did. He knew most things. “How’d you get to be so smart?” 

“Because I get to check out big kid books when we go to the library. Ms. Daley says I’m a very good reader.” Toby reached into the take out container and grabbed another chicken wing. 

“Then how about this: if you eat your food instead of playing with it, I’ll download some books about science for you to read.” 

“Okay! Deal!” he continued to eat the chicken wing without question. 

Dipper hated the way Toby always enthusiastically replied to deals and now with curiosity for bodies and “how things look on the inside”. Sometimes Toby acted a little too much like Bill. The previous summer, he had taken to tormenting bugs, frying them with a magnifying glass, ripping off their wings or legs. He’d sit out on the sidewalk and wait for some unsuspecting insect to come by and then slowly step on it, to make it splatter. And now he was trying to take the bones out of chicken wings.

Of course, Dipper had to remind himself that Toby was an average 6 year old boy. Like most 6 year olds he was curious about the world, and also very passionate about things that were gross. When Dipper was 6, he tried to make his own amber fossil by sticking lady bugs into some maple syrup. He had to believe this was no different. Toby was just experimenting. While simultaneously tormenting bugs he also read about them and drew pictures in his notebook of the ones he found interesting. 

“What else is new at school?” Dipper urged, desperate to change the subject to something less gory and gruesome. 

“Next week we have safety lessons! Firemen are coming and safety officers and de-,” he struggled with the word, “demologits.” 

“Demonologists?” he asked. 

“Yeah! We get to see the inside of a firetruck! And do safety drills! But I need you to sign my paper.”

Dipper leaned back in his chair, no longer eating but drumming his fingers on the table. “Uhm, I don’t know, Tobes.” Needless to say, he wasn’t very fond of demonologists. They started out a nuisance, academics who locked themselves away in their offices, making bad deals for knowledge about demon kind. But as time went on, those demonologists started to become too self-righteous. They got too comfortable with magic and decided that studying demons wasn’t nearly enough; and that they should form their own task-force dedicated to fighting demons and become a permanent thorn in Dipper’s side. 

“Awww why? It’s just a firetruck and some people talking.” 

Biting down on his bottom lip Dipper felt the faint poke of a fang dig through his skin. “It’s not the firetruck, it’s about the demonologist. I don’t want…” he paused. He didn’t want Toby to have any exposure to the demonic. This was about giving Toby the greatest chance at a normal life. “It’s complicated.” 

He huffed and crossed his arms. “That’s what you say when you have a secret. That’s what you said when I asked if the tooth fairy was real.” That actually was complicated. Fairies did have a habit of stealing teeth… as did demons.

“Well, uhm… Have I ever told you what I do for work?” Dipper said, leaning forward with his elbows pressed into the table. Toby shook his head. “I work with demons. Like a demonologist.” 

Toby blinked. “But you don’t wear a uniform? Or drive in a car with sirens?” 

“No, I’m very different from them. When something really bad happens, when the biggest and baddest demons come around, I make sure they go away. I fight them with really powerful spells. And when people need help, well... they call me." 

Toby’s eyes lit up like a jar full of fireflies. “You can do magic!” 

“Erm, yes,” he said hesitantly.

“Can you do a trick?” 

“My magic isn’t for playing. It’s dangerous stuff. And that’s what I’m worried about. I know how dangerous this is and I worry something could go wrong.” He placed a hand on Toby’s head, combing his fingers through the thick golden curls. “That’s all. It’s not that I don’t want you to have fun.” 

He was lying, as usual. It was something he did quite a lot of. The real fear was that this certain demonologist will talk to the children about the Transcendence and two particular demons who need not be mentioned. Dipper wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, considering the Transcendence was now a part of the common core standards for schools, but he didn’t want Toby learning anything about Bill Cipher. Most reincarnations do not have memories of their former lives, but feelings, an occasional sense of deja vu. However, Toby was not most incarnations. And Bill was not most demons. 

He was afraid of Toby learning the truth. 

“Well, if you’re a really important demolist—” 

“Demonologist.” 

“—then you should come to the school.” 

The other primary concern was that he didn’t want Toby learning about Alcor the Dreambender either. He didn’t like the way he was portrayed by most demonologists, historians, or certain cartoon writers. Sure, there was the occasional killing spree, spout of rage, or other act of vengeance. But he still tried to do the right thing, the right thing just often looked like the wrong thing in the eyes of humans. The more cosmic knowledge you had, the more gray morality became. 

So when the time came, if the time came, that Toby should learn the truth about him, Dipper wanted to be the one controlling the narrative. He wanted to tell the truth as he knew it. 

Tapping a finger against the table, he considered Toby’s offer. “Maybe I should,” he said. “I’ll call your school and ask about it.” By call and ask, he meant alter everyone’s memories and the schedule of events. 

“You’re the best!” 

“Alright. Now finish your dinner.”

\------

Of course, everything had gone just as Dipper wanted it to, and he was promptly added to the list of guest speakers. But when you had mind-altering powers, a lot of things tended to go your way. 

He had been going under the pseudonym Tyrone Pines since Toby came along. Really, it was just a formality. He had gone through so many false names by that point that he would respond to just about anything. But Tyrone was one he was always fond of. And though he hadn’t gone by Pines in some time, he wanted Toby to have the family last name. It was a sign of goodwill. That he genuinely saw Toby as his child, and he was therefore entitled to the name and legacy of the Pines family. 

Toby’s first grade teacher, Ms. Daley, gathered the students on the grass of the playground for the demonstration. The day was nice for a September morning, with blue skies and sun warm enough to heat the grass comfortably. That was mostly luck, with a little bit of demonic influence on the side. 

“Okay class,” the teacher said, “today we are going to hear from some special guests about safety. We have Firechief Esmerelda Martinez, Safety Officer Kathy White, and two demonologists-- Dave Derrickson and Tyrone Pines. We need to be extra polite today; use our listening ears and our quiet hands. Don’t touch anything unless one of our speakers says it’s okay. So how about we start with Chief Martinez.” 

Dipper stopped paying attention at that moment, already knowing what she was going to say, not really caring, and preferring to analyze the surrounding are for potential threats.

The actual demonologist, Dave, stretched out his arms in boredom and gave Dipper an up and down glance. “So, Tyrone, what section of the Demonologist Corp do you work for?” Why did humans feel the need to make useless conversation? They spent so much time trying to engage with other humans that they would never see again in their short lives. 

“That’s classified,” he responded. 

“Really? What’s your rank?” 

“That’s also classified.” 

Dave squinted and adjusted the brim of his Demonologist Corp registered blue uniform hat. “Can I see your I.D. card?” He was definitely suspicious. As hard as he tried, Dipper couldn’t help but radiate a faint demonic aura. It wasn’t anything too drastic or concerning. Something that made everyone around him slightly uncomfortable, just for a moment, before questioning themselves about it. 

Dipper nodded and reached into his wallet. Obviously, he did not have an I.D. card for the Demonologist Corp, because he was an actual demon. Instead, he pulled out a punch card from the ice cream shop he and Toby liked to visit on the weekends. He had 2 more punches to go until getting a free cone. Of course, that isn’t what Dave saw. A little mind-altering magic caused him to see a very legitimate I.D. card with the bold words CLASSIFIED printed underneath. 

He puckered his lips, confused but convinced. “You seem like someone who’s too important to be talking to a group of first graders.” 

He, in fact, was too important to be talking to a group of first graders.

Dipper shrugged. “My son Toby is in this class. It’s kind of a thing that parents do for their children. And besides, we don’t want any second-rate demonologists screwing this up.” 

Dave scowled, and raised an eyebrow accusingly. “What’d you say your last name was?” 

“Pines.” 

He scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “That would explain why you’re so cocky. You think your special because you’ve got a powerful family line or something? Mafia leaders and librarians or whatever?” 

“My cockiness is of my own creation,” Dipper said with an unnerving grin. “And the relation is distant, by the way.” 

That got the far too nosy, second-rate demonologist off his back. And so far the coast seemed clear of any spying eyes. He glanced over at Toby, sitting on the grass with a fascinated look plastered across his face, and he hoped that everything would be alright. 

\------ 

“So, in the event of a demon attack remember SHEEP. Stay calm. Hide and take cover. Evaluate the situation. Evacuate the area. Protect yourself if necessary,” Dale Derrickson finished saying, pointing at the cheesy poster-board he had brought along from the station. 

Dipper didn’t know whether to scoff at the idea that any kind of acronym could keep you safe from a demon attack, or to be appalled that schools were still using cheesy acronyms to teach safety to children. Instead, he nodded and smiled, as if all of this was incredibly normal and useful information. 

Ms. Daley clapped her hands together 3 times, signalling for all the children to do the same to show that they were listening. “Thank you, Mr. Derrickson. Now how about we ask Mr. Pines some questions?” It occurred to Dipper that he had never been referred to as Mr. Pines before. It made him feel even older than he already was. “He’s a different kind of demonologist from the people we see in our community.” 

Dipper was not actually prepared to take questions from a group of second graders. Luckily, he had gotten very good at lying over the years. “That’s right,” he said. “I show up when there are big emergencies. I work all over the world instead of in one city.” 

Toby waved at him from the second row, displaying his front-tooth-missing grin. Dipper waved back, keeping his hand down by his leg, like an embarrassing middle schooler waving at their overeager parents during the school play. 

A little girl with pigtails raised her hand, “Why don’t you wear a uniform like Mr. Derrickson?” 

“Well, I do have a sort of uniform. It’s this big black suit and I can only wear it when I’m working.” 

“Did you always want to be a demonologist?” another child asked. 

“Well, uhm when I was a kid I wanted to have a ghost hunting TV show.” The kids thought that was funny, mostly because ghost hunting had become so mundane since the Transcendence that there was no point in putting it on TV anymore. Dipper chuckled to himself and nervously stroked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, that was pretty silly of me. But when I got older I learned more about demons and I decided that I should try to protect people from them, sort of like ghosts but cooler.” 

“Can you do magic?” 

He shrugged, “Well, yes. I can do some fire magic. But it’s not safe for me to do it here.” That disappointed the entire first grade class, their faces smacked with frowns. 

“What’s the scariest demon you’ve ever fought?” another child called. 

_Bill Cipher._

Dipper didn't want to think about it but he did.

He suddenly felt so aware of himself, aware of the masquerade he had performed for so long. He remembered the 12-year-old trapped within himself, staring up at the sky split open like a bloody lip and listening to the cackle of a demon vibrate through the air. A child forced to succumb to the influence of a monster. He didn’t shapeshift himself a heart or lungs, but yet he felt his chest tighten. Looking down, he caught the hazel gaze of a little blonde boy, sitting cross-legged in the grass with wonder. The damning smile of his enemy. And he had to remind himself to resist the urge to be angry or afraid. 

It was all over. And he wasn’t a child anymore. 

“Uhm… you know they were all pretty scary. It’s hard to choose," he eventually said. 

A rambunctious boy, you know the type-- somehow mean and tough looking for a child, called out. “So you fight the really, really big demons, right? The ones that knock down buildings and eat souls? Like,” he mimicked a fight, punching and explosions everywhere. 

“That’s right.” 

“Have you ever met Alcor the Dreambender?” the boy asked again. 

If Dipper had a beating heart it would have sunk in his chest. He must have gone comically pale at the question, because the teacher interjected on his behalf. “Trent, please. That’s not an appropriate question.”

Dipper swallowed and held out one hand. “No, it’s okay. Really,” he assured. If he wanted to control the narrative, this was his chance to do so. “I have met him.” It was met by a silence by the children as well as a satisfyingly stunned expression from Dave Derrickson. “But we didn’t fight. I talked with him.” 

Toby looked at him wide-eyed, like this was the most miraculous and world-changing news he ever heard. And suddenly, Dipper felt very guilty about the lie he carried around. 

“What’s he like?” a girl whispered. 

“That’s a dumb question! He’s a demon, the worst of ‘em! He’s evil and eats souls!” Trent, the obnoxious one, shouted. 

Dipper thought about this for a moment. At no point in history had anyone dared asked the question “What is Alcor the Dreambender really like?” It seemed improbable that demons would have feelings, or perhaps even a family. In a way, demons were akin to how school age children view teachers; they don’t have lives outside of what you see. Dipper himself wasn’t entirely sure how to answer the question. He wasn’t sure who he really was.

“He’s… different from other demons. He feels like an old soul. Do you know how your grandparents can be kind of grumpy and complain that the world is different from when they were kids?” The children nodded “That’s a bit what Alcor is like. He’s a really, _really_ cranky, old man. Everything is different and he wants everything to go back to the way it was.” That got a laugh, even a somewhat nervous chuckle from some of the adults. “But he’s still evil. He’s done a lot of bad things to a lot of people. I think he likes hurting people. And if you summon him, he will hurt you.” The truth of his own words stung. He cleared his throat. “But I think that’s enough questions about dread demons for now.” 

Ms. Daley poked herself into the conversation. “This seems like a good time to move on to our summoning demonstration.” 

“Summoning demonstration?” Dipper asked. 

Dave Derrickson pulled out a mat and rolled it out on the grass. A blank circle was printed on it, so that any kind of summoning circle could be put over it with washable markers Circles were much like calling cards, though summoning was fueled primarily by intent, they made sure your message was getting to the right demon. Even when blank, Dipper could feel the rising potential energy inside of it, like revving the engine of a car. “That’s right. We keep a little fella at the station to show the kids proper summoning and banishing.” 

“Seriously, that doesn’t seem safe,” he said.

“What? Ya’ nervous, Mr. Bigshot?” Dave chuckled. 

“We can’t tell them to not summon demons and then summon a demon, even a little one.” He stepped in front of the blank circle, trying to draw Dave’s attention. “They’re 6, there is no reason for them to know anything about summoning. Save that for when they are older.” 

He shrugged, “Kids find themselves in tough situations everyday. Remember the P in SHEEP? They should protect themselves. If they should be in a dangerous situation, we gotta teach them how to banish a demon.” He pulled a marker out of his utility pack and began to draw on the circle, “Besides, I thought you were here to make sure nothing bad happens.” 

Finishing up the circle, Dave popped the marker back into his belt and turned to address the children. Dipper bit down nervously on the inside of his cheek. He usually wasn’t around to watch summonings, and the high concentration of magic in the air was making him anxious. His made his skin tingle and his mind hyperactive, like he had just drunk 3 mega-shots of Mabel Juice. 

Dave gestured to the circle. “We will be summoning a Quivering Mouther. They’re lesser demons that aren’t very intelligent, small, and become easily anxious at the sight of anything bigger than them. It’s perfectly safe.” 

One of the children raised their hand. “Why is it called a Quivering Mouther?” 

“You’ll see.” Dave went about the summoning, chanting in what Dipper thought was just-okay latin. 

The circle lit up, a hiss of smoke rising from it. And then in a pop of fire and gust of hot smoke, something terrible rose up from the ground. The only way to describe it was like an amorphous mass of chewed bubble gum that had suddenly gained sentience and several billion teeth. It oozed and stretched, beating itself against the circle’s protective layer. Its mouths spoke in several disjointed voices, each one attempting to be heard over the others. _Feed! Souls! Must feed!_ Dipper could feel the barrier of the circle breaking, after all, it was designed for a much smaller demon. It wouldn’t hold forever. 

The children shrieked, many running to stand behind Ms. Daley. Dave scrambled away from the circle as the demon continued to claw and chatter. “I swear, that wasn’t supposed to happen!” 

Dipper grumbled to himself, “Oh, perfect. Just what we needed.” He took a step back, trying to get a look at the demon looming over him.He processed the info dump of omniscience that followed: 

(Chattering Mouther— colloquial name. Unintelligent demons focused solely on the consumption of souls. Chattering Mouthers are 5xs larger than their nervous cousins, the Quivering Mouther, and tend to murmur at their victims. They will seek out older and more powerful souls if an opportunity arises.) 

At that moment, the barrier gave way, and the Chattering Mouther rolled out onto the grass. It’s body oozed and stretched along the ground, chattering as it went. _Souls! Feed._ It’s voice churned over and over as second-rate demonologist Dave barely leapt out of its way. Smoke from the summoning curled along the grass. The demon beat thrashed across the ground, sending the first grade class stumbling. The children wailed loudly, as the adults attempted to corral them, though the adults themselves were unsure of what to do. 

“Take the kids inside,” Dipper shouted, watching them scramble. One of the children stumbled, onto the grass, a glob of teeth and viscera hungrily looming over them. 

Dipper held out a hand to conjure a flame, but then remembered that he was supposed to be masquerading as a human. The blue fire would probably give him away (that was Alcor’s signature after all), so roasting that demon alive was out of the question. He’d have to be a little more creative in his magic choices. He cocked his head to the side, levitating the child out of the demon’s reach and near the safety officer, who was attempting to urge the first grade class to a secure location.

Something grabbed onto his hand and pulled. “Daddy!” Toby cried, trying to usher his father along. There was blood and dirt on his knee, he must have tripped at some point. The Chattering Mouther grew closer, it’s several mouths calling out and the goo of its amorphous body turning the ground black. It reared up behind them, brandishing its largest mouth. _Souls! Ancient souls!_

Dipper was out of time to think creatively. He tossed up a magical shield between himself and the Mouther and pushed his back against it, as if trying to keep a door closed. “Toby, you need to follow Ms. Daley right now.” 

The Chattering Mouther pressed against the barrier, nearly knocking Dipper to the ground. _Souls!_ It cried. _Feed! Cipher’s soul! Feed!_

“You can’t have him!” Dipper shouted, an waver of fear in his voice. “Leave him alone!” 

Toby took a few nervous steps back, looking up at the demon. “Daddy?” 

“Toby,” he said, voice straining as he pushed his back farther against the shield. He rolled his eyes and groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this: but what is the H in SHEEP for?” 

His voice quivered, “Hide?” 

“That’s right. And I need you to go hide with your classmates, okay?” 

Toby nodded, and ran off in the direction of the fire chief who had come to retrieve him. At least there were some competent adults at this unfortunate safety demonstration. 

Speaking of incompetent adults. “Dave!” he shouted, across the chattering and the gurgling slime. “Please tell me you at least know how to do a shield spell! Because I’m gonna need some help.” 

Dave reached for his utility belt, pulling out what looked like a water pistol. “I have a better idea, I’m gonna blast it with some anointed water.” 

“You’re only gonna make it angry!” Dipper hollered, it was getting harder and harder to push back the Chattering Mouther, not without using his magic at full potential. “Come on, man! You are literally planning to fight a 3 story tall demon with a squirt gun!” 

Dave, in an attempt to seem important, chose not to listen to this. He positioned himself just in the exposed area behind Dipper’s shield, and raised his water pistol. “Over here you slimy monster!” The Chattering Mouther looked over, and was blasted by an arc of water against one of its many mouths. 

It hissed and oozed back in on itself, smoke from the burn rising from its amorphous exterior. And then it growled, _Feed! Souls!_ It reached out, enveloping Dave’s feet and lifted him up in the air. He screamed, continually trying to shoot at it with the water pistol. The Chattering Mouther opened up one of its many mouths while the others whispered. _Must feed. Hungry. Feed on your soul!_ And then it dropped Dave into its mouth, chewed a few times, and then spit up the soulless husk onto the ground. For the complete lack of blood and viscera, it was a gruesome death to witness. 

Dipper blinked, “Well, he earned that.” He looked around the area, the last of the kids being ushered inside the building, being told not to look at what had just happened behind them. 

Finally. He was alone. 

He turned around to face the Chattering Mouther, pressing both hands against the barrier. “You think you’re big and scary, huh?” he muttered. He let the glamor slip off his eyes, revealing the dark black sclera and piercing gold irises underneath. “You should see m̵̻̟̭͕̻̗̳͑̽̿̊͘e̷̳̩͈̘̊.” 

Taking notice of him, the Chattering Mouther ceased to chatter, and cautiously began to draw its way back into the circle. _Alcor._

“That’s right,” he muttered, continuing to push the demon back into the circle. The Mouther kept moving back, afraid of the dread demon inching closer and closer. Dipper moved it back into the circle, watching the lines and arches glow in anticipation. “And I forbid you from ever entering my territory again,” he continued, a snarl curling from his voice. “Or I will end you.” The Chattering Mouther didn’t have time to speak or even whimper as the summoning circle lit up again with a spark of bright flame, and then was gone. 

Dipper dropped down on the grass, not tired or drained, but uncomfortable. Fighting a demon without proper use of his magic was like brushing your teeth with both hands tied behind your back: possible but also annoying. He looked back at the summoning circle, most of the marker smeared away. It was no coincidence the Chattering Mouther appeared; and things were much worse than he initially thought. 

\------ 

The gymnasium of the elementary school had been turned into a temporary trauma and recovery room. He never had to shapeshift to look exhausted before, sweat on his forehead, glowing red cheeks, lungs to breathe with. But it seemed to be enough to convince everyone there. Paramedics, safety officers, and several other second-rate demonologists started to funnel into the school. 

“Daddy!” From the pack of traumatized 6-year-olds erupted Toby, running at his father full force. He jumped up, nearly crawling his way into Dipper’s arms, elbows and knees poking everywhere. He sniffled a few times, and pressed his forehead to his father’s shoulder. 

“Awww hey, kiddo,” he said, probably gripping a little too hard but not really caring. “It’s okay. Everything is alright now, I promise.” 

“Are you hurt?” Toby whispered. 

It had been a very long time since anyone asked him that question. “No. I’m okay.” He propped up Toby in his arms and took note of the blood dribbling down his leg, “But you have a big scrape on your knee.” He flagged down one of the passing EMTs and asked for some bandages. 

The safety officer from the safety demonstrations walked over to him. Her hair and fallen out of her tightly wrapped bun and there was a thin, red cut running across the back of her hand. “Mr. Pines, is everything alright?” 

Nope. Still not used to being called Mr. Pines. 

“Everything is alright, well except for--

She cut him off, “Yes, uhm. We know about Mr. Derrickson.” She cleared her throat, caught somewhere between the line of witnessing a tragedy, but also realizing that Dave was not the brightest demonologist of the bunch. “Do you have any idea what could have caused this?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t know.” He did know. He knew most things. 

Chattering Mouthers liked to hunt valuable prey and would often usurp each other’s summonings just to get a chance. The demon had sensed a valuable target, an old soul with a lot of potential for power: Toby. 

“Well, we were all incredibly lucky you were here, Mr. Pines. Without you, all of these kids could have died.” 

If he wasn’t so busy hiding his identity, he could have stopped the Chattering Mouther the moment it arrived. He sighed and put on his best fake smile, “Just doing my job.” Then he turned on a little bit of the mind-altering magic, just enough to make her susceptible to suggestion. “Could you possibly leave me out of the incident report? I’m a very private person. Just tell everyone the demon crawled away when no one was left.” 

She nodded, a dreamlike quality having suddenly overcome her. “Yes. I will do that.” And then she walked away, with no further questions asked. 

One of the EMTs came by with a first aid kit and handed it to Dipper. Setting Toby down on the ground, he grabbed the bottle of disinfectant and let it ooze onto the gauze. He realized he could just use magic to heal Toby, but continued to prep the gauze anyway. “Hold still, it will sting.” Toby whimpered when Dipper placed the gauze to his knee, blotting at the blood and dirt causing the cause to come back stained a deep rust. 

“What did the demon say?” Toby asked. “It said something, like Ci-her.” 

He stopped tending to Toby’s knee for a moment, suddenly too afraid to be able to move. “It was just saying things that sounded scary,” he spoke much too fast, eager to end the conversation. “That’s all. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“But it was talking to me. It called me a name.” 

“Bad demons like that don’t talk to people. They just want to be scary and eat.” 

“But you said you talked to Alcor and that he’s bad.” 

He swallowed and dabbed at Toby’s knee again. “Yeah. He’s a really bad guy Toby. He kills and lies and all he wants to do is hurt people.” 

“Do you think it’s because he’s scared? Ms. Daley says we sometimes do bad things when we feel scared.” 

He let out a breath through his nose. “Maybe.” Setting down the gauze, now ripe with red blood, he grabbed a bandage from the kit and placed it over Toby’s knee. “There you go. You’re all better now.” 

Toby bent his knee a few times, testing out the bandage. And then he looked back up. “Why is Alcor scared?” 

Behind them, several of Toby’s classmates whimpered and cried as emergency services combed their way through the gymnasium. And Dipper couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Like all of this was his fault. 

He placed a hand on top of Toby’s curly, golden hair. “Because things are changing. He’s pretty young for a demon and he might not have been ready for it. And he hurts people to ignore the fact that he’s afraid.” He paused, realizing what he had just said. “But you have nothing to worry about.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on Toby’s forehead, becoming tender with his own worst enemy. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”


	3. Running Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is running late to pick Toby up from school.

The basement (seriously, if you wanted a demon to like you, summon them at a fancy restaurant or maybe a park) (no demon wants to be summoned where you keep the holiday decorations and assorted family heirlooms) was dark and clouded with the wispy smoke of candles bought on sale for $14.99 each. The summoning circle had been painted onto the concrete floor in a slightly more oval shape than what he preferred, nor did it dry properly, so the room reeked with a sour smell. 

The cultist shook his fist in a dramatic fit of anger, “The world needs to be reborn! Corporate greed, mass violence, teens who spend too much time on their magi-orbs, wearing leggings as pants!: it is all dirt on the face of the earth.” His robe was too long, inching well past his feet and over his hands. Why did all cultists think wearing robes was the only proper way to dress? It would be much more respectful to put on some evening wear, or at least something business casual. “Life is far too complicated and the only solution is to start again,” he continued. “We humbly ask you indulge our request to repair this broken world.” 

The other hooded cultists, looking equally as ridiculous, bowed. “We humbly ask this of you.” 

Now they were speaking in unison? Did they have rehearsals or something? 

The ringleader cleared his throat and grabbed his three ring binder. “Now if you will so kindly turn to the methodology section of our report.” 

Alcor groaned, sitting cross-legged in the summoning circle, cheek resting against his hand. He had been meeting with the Order of Tomorrow for nearly 3 hours at that point. It was like attending the world’s longest and most boring office meeting, the kind where your supervisor didn’t even provide donuts or coffee. Mention, he had always feared working in an office. He couldn’t imagine the agony of sitting at a desk all day, poking away at a keyboard and occasionally making a joke at the water cooler with your co-worker Jeff, who was just an okay guy. And yet, this particular summoning seemed so much worse than any other non-demonic job. 

“We’ve laid out 3 different 5-point plans, each one focusing on a different technique. Now we understand that you are an expert in this area and are open to hearing your feedback,” the ringleader continued, licking his finger to turn the page on his report. 

Alcor pulled back his sleeve, and looked at the watch that magically appeared on his wrist. “Yeah, can we speed this up?” he said. “I need to pick up my— I have other things I need to do.”

In order to maintain a sufficient work/life balance, he took all of his summonings while Toby was at school. The answering machine on his circle now had the option for you to schedule a meeting at a later point. Of course, this would come at an exuberant price. The system had worked well up until that moment. He’d answer a couple calls, and then be done by 2:45 so he could go pick Toby up. When the summoning from an incompetent cult came, he thought it would take no more than 15 minutes. He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“Pardon?” the ringleader asked. He was certainly an unusual looking cultist. A scrawny bald man wearing glasses, with a face that looked slightly like a turtle. He looked like the kind of person who enjoyed terribly long office meetings with no donuts. 

“I’m busy and I need to leave,” Alcor replied. “Also, I’m bored.” 

The ring leader tapped a finger against his bottom lip. “I suppose we can move onto the visual part of our presentation.” 

“Visuals?” he said, exasperated. 

The ring leader pulled out a remote from the pocket of his robe, and clicked the button. Nothing happened. He clicked again. “Oh darn this silly thing.” He clicked it again, and again. “It must need batteries. Anyone have batteries?” He looked to the other cultists who shared a shrug, patted down their pockets. One turned around and rooted through a not so secretly stowed backpack. “No? No one? Lord Alcor, do you have batteries?” 

“Just get to the point, man.” 

The ringleader sighed, and put the remote back in his pocket, and flipped through the binder again. “We believe it is time for you to begin the apocalypse.” 

“No.” 

“B-but didn’t you just hear the whole presentation?” He flipped through the report. “We had bullet pointed lists and--” 

Alcor cut him off. “All I have been doing is listening to your presentation. And it is obnoxious. I, a literal chaos entity, have just called you obnoxious. That’s a very serious insult. Besides,” he said, “I’m not ready to cause the apocalypse. I like human things: TV, ice cream, tiny boxes that are too small to put anything in but you keep anyway because they’re cute.” 

“Then perhaps just a little apocalypse?” 

He shook his head and looked back down at his watch. 2:50. He needed to be at the school. “You’ve wasted my time, and I’m running late for something.” He raised a hand to teleport himself out of the circle. 

“Wait! Can we reschedule?” the ringleader cried. 

Alcor paused in thought. “Can you even afford it?” 

“Yes, we have the payment now, my lord.” 

Well, he supposed their initial offering was a good one. A crate of chocolate bars, 3 cases of Dr. Mountain soda (he was going to be very popular with Toby when he got home), and every cultist’s favorite memory of their grandma. It was at least worth a listen to what they would offer next. 

“Go on?” he said, curiosity bubbling up in his voice. 

The ringleader turned to his 2 subordinates. “Go retrieve the offering from the attic.” They left immediately. 

Waiting was awkward. The cultists shuffled in the silence. One of them coughed abruptly. 

“So,” one of them said casually. “Anybody catch last night’s episode of Singing Contest 3000?” 

“They voted off Vivi. I liked her,” another replied. 

“Yeah. She was good.” 

The silence ensued after that. 

The cultists reappeared at 2:55 this time with a third person, a young woman in ath-leisure clothing. She looked unwell, skin shiny with sweat and hair unwashed. He couldn’t begin to understand why anyone thought a demon wanted greasy and unkempt humans as sacrifices. How would you feel if your fan club presented you with a mangey racoon? 

They forced the woman to her knees before the circle. Alcor watched as the fear in her eyes shifted from the cultists around her to the demon right in front of her. She instinctively reeled back at the sight of him, but he reached out with one hand, holding her chin up with 2 fingers to examine her. There was a bruise on her face and a crust of dried blood underneath her nose. The greasy strands of her hair fell into her eyes as she attempted to pull away. 

He released her, and one of the subordinates came up from behind the woman and placed a knife to her throat. She choked back a sob. 

(He didn’t want to admit it, but there was some temptation to the offer. A human sacrifice would tide him over for sometime. Especially given the new structure he had applied to summonings. Unfortunately, the Order of Tomorrow caught him in one of his good moods; the ones where he attempted to control his impulses.) (Of course, this control did not extend to kidnappers.) 

“Do you accept our payment, my lord?” asked the ringleader. 

“How dare you insult me like this?” Alcor said, directing his attention back to the cultists. 

This confused them. “Is she not enough? There are more.” 

“M̵̢̡̫̈́̐̚ǫ̴̗̜͛͝ŗ̵̘͎͐͛̈e̶̫̪̘̖̮͊?̵͉̹̘̟̔̀̑” fury raged in his voice. 

“Several more. As many as you please!” 

He bore all of his teeth when he snarled at them. “Y̸̼̊o̴̯̕u̵̻͛ ̵̗̀d̶͕͐a̴͉̋r̴̬̂e̶̻̽ ̴̫̿c̵̙͘a̵̩̓l̵̜͘l̷̢̓ ̷̧͂y̶͚̅ơ̷͍u̸͎̐r̷̜͠s̶͍̏ȅ̷̪l̶̗̾f̶̺̔ ̴̙͑ẁ̴̖ö̶͎r̴̞͌s̶͉̚ḩ̴̍i̵̙̎p̷͙̉p̷͙̄e̷̟͆r̸̙̋s̷̠?̷̤̔ ̶̟̋Y̶̗͛ǒ̷̳u̷͎͊ ̵̰͝t̵̼̿h̵̳̚i̷̛͜n̶͍͑k̴̪͛ ̸͓͝y̸͇̎o̴̰̾u̴͚̓r̷̤͛s̸̖̈́ẻ̵̼ḻ̴̈́f̶̣͠ ̶͚̐g̵̼̊o̶͔̍d̴̥̚s̴͍̑!̶̰͌ ̸̧̈́Ỵ̵ǫ̴̂ṵ̵̚ ̶̡̀k̴͙̒ỉ̸̧d̷̠̅n̴̜͊a̷̦̎p̸̜͛ ̶̳͑i̴͔̾n̷͖͋n̷͚͊ǒ̸̝c̵̮͘e̶͚̒n̵͖͋t̶̤́s̵̳̀,̸͚̒ ̴̞͑ḑ̶̇ē̸̜m̸͌ͅa̴̢͗n̵̦͋d̶̨̈́ ̴͓͑t̶͉̆ḥ̵͋ẻ̶̫ ̴̜̑a̷̫̓p̷̣̅o̷͇c̴̳͝a̶͔̋l̸̟̄y̸̫͋p̵̢͆s̵̥̓ë̸̟́,̸̦̈́ ̸̹̔a̵̬͘n̶͉͝ḓ̶̐ ̵̨͂w̸̻̑ȁ̸͖s̷͕̍t̷̫͌e̷͚͛ ̵͕̀m̵̤͊y̴̋ͅ ̴̬̽t̷̮̚i̵̢͝m̶̝̚e̶̬̿..̷̂͜ ̴̘̈́D̸̫͑ȍ̸̜ ̴̹̌y̸͖͒ǒ̷̻u̶̜͑ ̸͈̈́ṫ̴̨h̴̓ͅi̶͙͠n̸̼̄k̵͈̆ ̶̢̚ẙ̵ͅǫ̵̕ǔ̴̯ ̸͔̀c̸͕͂a̴͔͌n̵͓̕ ̴̞̊o̸͇͐r̸̮͝d̸͔͝e̶̙͋r̴̳̕ ̵̠͌m̷̩̾ě̸̠ ̸͈̈a̵̪r̵͎͂o̸͋͜ṵ̸̈́n̸̨͠d̸̻͊?̷̛” His voice growled like the roll of thunder across an open plain while tornado sirens pierced in the distance. 

This caught their attention, a yellow fear radiating across the room. The one holding the knife to the woman’s neck let it clatter to the ground. The ringleader put on a strained smile and an uncomfortable chuckle. “Please, Lord Alcor. We did not mean to insult you. This is all a misunderstanding.” 

He checked the time again. 2:58. He was running late. But he supposed there was still time to teach these humans a quick lesson. He stood up, stretched his back, and let his wings unfurl from his back like a black cape. “Ỵ̵̃o̶̩̎u̷͔̐r̷̘̓ ̸̖ȋ̶͍ǹ̶̼t̸̑͜e̶̬͘ǹ̶̫ť̷̥ĩ̷̤o̵̻͌ṋ̴̔s̵̛̰ ̵͉̃m̵̨̃ȇ̴̺ả̶̲ṋ̴̿ ̸̍ͅn̸̘̚ô̵̜t̸̗̕h̷̹͛i̵̧̚ṅ̸̰g̶̤̃ ̸̜͆t̷͓o̶̰͝ ̵̤̄m̴̹̆e̴̥̋.̷̩̅ ̶̠̈́Y̶̰̍ō̷̠u̷̦͘ ̵̠͌ḫ̷̿a̷͔̿v̵̱e̸͔̿ ̵͔̉ĭ̴̞ņ̴͗s̴̼̓u̵̲̚l̶̠̉ṱ̶̽e̸̠̕d̵̬͠ ̴͍̒ḿ̵̻e̵͆͜ ̸̟̉a̸͙̒n̸̹̿d̵̯̈́ ̴͚̎ṇ̴͗ȍ̶̰ŵ̵̝ ̸̪͝y̷̯o̸̯̓u̵̢̒ ̵͍͂w̶̟̾i̴̹͒l̸͙ļ̴̑ ̶̖̚p̶͙̋ǎ̵͇y̸̍ͅ.̵̺̂ ̶͑͜” 

“You cannot hurt us!” screamed the ringleader, as he stumbled away from the summoning circle. “We’ve laid a protective salt circle around you.” 

Alcor looked down, the little grains of salt highlighted in the soft glow of his summoning circle. He swiped at it with his foot, rather anticlimactically. He looked back at the cultists and shrugged sarcastically, “Oh no. Whatever will I do?” He snapped his fingers and a blaze of fire crawled through the room. It latched onto anything it could find, devouring with a vicious hunger. The young woman meant to be used as a sacrifice bounded for the stairs, the bottoms of her shoes singed by the flames, but otherwise leaving her unharmed. Meanwhile, the Order of Tomorrow was anything but unharmed. 

He noted that there were some fairly good reasons to not wear matching robes when summoning a demon:

  1. You look stupid 
  2. If too long, you will trip over them while attempting to flee for your life
  3. They are highly flammable 
  4. Dry cleaning is expensive, should you survive the encounter 



The screams were nice. There was an insatiable desire to watch humans hurt. Not because he liked to make people suffer for no reason, he would like to remind you, but it was some kind of vicarious hurt. Sometimes the longing to have skin that could burn. Or sometimes, he just wished he could scream in agony like they did. Everything hurt. And there was no way to make the hurt stop. Of course, he tried not to hurt people who didn’t deserve it. The cult definitely deserved it. 

An old-fashioned corded telephone magically appeared beside him, its chattering ring echoing through the basement. Alcor groaned, “Shit.” He checked his watch, 3:02. He was 17 minutes late. He grabbed the phone by the handle and answered it, “Hello?” 

The voice on the other side was mostly made of static. _“Mr. Pines? This is Jay Weltz from the primary school. No one has come to pick Toby up from school yet. Will you be picking him up or is there someone else coming to get him?”_

“No, I will be there as soon as I can," he said. "I’m just running a little late, please apologize to Toby for me.” 

One of the cult members ran by, screaming as his torso slowly became engulfed in the electric blaze of demonic flame. 

_“What was that?”_ Jay asked, concern in their voice. 

He visibly winced, muddling his way through an excuse. “Traffic?” 

There was an uncomfortable silence on the other side of the line. _“It sounds terrible. Well, just so you know Toby is waiting with me in the front office.”_

“Thank you. It shouldn’t be much longer.” He hung up the phone; it even gave a satisfying _ching_. 

The screaming continued, too bad he couldn’t relish in it. The ringleader threw himself at Alcor’s feet, the fire burning up his robe, revealing blackened and charred skin racing up his back. “Please, my lord! Have mercy!” He reached up, gripping to the white sleeve of Alcor’s shirt, a thick black smear of ash and blood coming from his hands. 

“Have m̸̜̌e̵̗r̵̼͝c̵̛̲ỷ̶̨?̸͙ ̷̟̓” Alcor snarled, yanking his hand away. “I have no mercy for pitiful things like you. You call yourself worshipers but yet you only demand things of me, you bring me your sacrifices of stolen life.” He grabbed the binder (and it’s 192 pages of content) and dropped it into the flames, a vicious glare caught in the gold of his eyes. “And I hate boring presentations.” 

The fire continued to burn, and for a moment he wondered if he should stop. But then he heard the panicked shuffle of footsteps on the linoleum floor above, and the muffle of the kidnapped woman’s voice as she hastily called the police. And there were more trapped in the attic. Innocent people kept for slaughter all in the name of a demon who wanted no such thing. 

The words curled from his mouth as he looked to the ringleader, “Y̸̦͂o̴̜̎ȕ̷͍ ̶̀ͅd̵͍̂ŏ̵̤n̴̛͜'̸t̴̺̊ ̸̨̑d̸͒͜e̸̞͐s̵̳͛ĕ̸͜r̵̠v̵̭̍ȇ̷̜ ̶̟͌m̵̺͆e̶͎̅r̵̮͑c̵̰̓y̸͈͠.̴͚̾” 

He looked down at his watch. 3:05. The house was burning. The flame would consume everything, and bring the whole thing crumbling down in 11 minutes. There wasn’t nearly enough time. He was running very late. But occasionally, he found it within himself to extend some act of mercy to those who deserved it. 

(There are 7 more victims in the attic. 2 of them are children.) (The entrance is locked from the outside, and there are no windows.) 

He sighed, and teleported out of the basement and towards the attic. The house had filled with smoke, white and suffocating, like thousands of burning incense sticks. He yanked on the cord that pulled the stairs from the ceiling. The sound of coughs and cries barreled down from the attic. 

He backed away slowly, making sure there was no chance of his being seen. Being lured to freedom by the demon who was supposed to devour your soul was not the most comforting or trustworthy of opportunities. He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound as human as possible. “Those cultists are dead. They angered Alcor the Dreambender,” he called, a swell of guilt getting trapped in his throat as he spoke. “But the house is burning with demonic flame. The police will be here soon but you need to get out now.” 

They mumbled and shuffled for the exit, he could hear them picking up the children and preparing to carry them down the wooden attic stairs. He curled into the darkness behind a curtain of smoke, watching as the first pair of feet landed on the third to last step, and then he disappeared. 

\------

He teleported behind the school, shapeshifting into his human disguise as quickly as possible. He checked his watch. 3:11. He was very late. Running towards the front entrance, he took a moment to double check his reflection: very human eyes and teeth. No discernible wings or claws. He didn’t care too much about changing clothes, ditching the jacket and waistcoat but opting to keep the white shirt. He looked like a single, suburban dad who had definitely just come from work. And then he went inside. 

Toby was sitting on a plastic chair outside the front office, mindlessly fiddling with his backpack straps. The office administrator, Jay, typed an email the holoscreen of a magi-orb. Dipper gave a relaxed smile, “Hey, kiddo. Sorry, it took me a while. I was in an incredibly boring meeting.” 

Toby’s head popped up. “Dad!” Slipping out of the chair, he wrapped both arms around Dipper’s waist. 

Jay grinned, looking away from the email. “You certainly made it here faster than I thought. That traffic sounded terrible.” 

Dipper shrugged, “I managed to take a quick detour. Thanks for keeping an eye on him.” He looked back down at Toby. “Ready to go home?” 

“Yeah!” 

He held on to Toby’s hand as they walked down the front steps of the school building. “What’s on your hand?” Toby asked. 

“What do you mean,” he looked down, noticing the smear of blood and shining ash on the sleeve of his white shirt and running down his hand. He tore his hand from Toby’s, trying to rub it off onto his pants. “Just a little dirt. Hey, someone gave me some chocolate bars at work today.” He was desperate to change the subject. “How about I let you have one, as an apology for being late.” 

“Okay!” Toby picked up the pace, running through the parking lot. 

Dipper pulled his hand away, still tinged a faint grayish red, like the blood would never go away. 


	4. The Syrup Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby brings a bottle of magic maple syrup to show and tell.

There was always enough syrup in the bottle. Every Friday morning, when Toby woke up for school, he would be greeted by the rich scent of waffles. He would shuffle through the house, still in his pajamas, and see his dad smiling over the griddle. Seating himself at the kitchen table, Toby would grab the syrup bottle, which was always 3 quarters full and then pour it over the waffles. It didn’t matter how much he poured, the bottle was always 3 quarters full. He knew it was the same bottle because the label was always peeling off on the right corner. 

His dad would sit at his right, his own plate of waffles and say something along the lines of “when my sister and I were children, we would hold two bottles of syrup in the air, and race to see which one would dribble out onto our tongues first” or “my parents only made pancakes and waffles for special occasions, but my great uncle would make them whenever he was in the mood, and we could smell them cooking from the attic”. Toby liked Friday mornings very much.

The syrup bottle was just one of several odd things to occur in the house. Like how there would sometimes be smoke in the house but no fire, how the air always smelled a little like pine needles, or the time he fell and scraped his elbow on the sidewalk and his dad applied a bandaid, but he woke up the next morning to find there was no scrape underneath. But these were all things Toby never seemed to grasp. It was the syrup that had caught his interest. 

So when it was his turn to bring in something for show and tell, Toby decided that the most interesting object in his life was the syrup bottle that never emptied. He tucked it into this backpack on Friday morning, rather than putting it back in the pantry like he was supposed to. It weighed down his backpack when he walked into school (considering that 6 year olds do not tend to have a lot of homework, and therefore don’t have heavy backpacks). He could feel the plastic base press up against his back and rub against his spine with every step. 

The first grade class took turns sharing their favorite objects every week. The week prior, Tori showed the class a piece of amber she got from the Jurassic Sap-hole in Oregon. And the week before that Stevie showed everyone his pet frog Brutus. Toby didn’t have any of those things, but the syrup bottle was the most fantastical item he had ever seen. It would surely excite everyone else. 

When it came time for show and tell, he got up out of his chair, carrying his backpack alongside him. He pulled the syrup bottle out and placed it on the table at the front of the room. The moment he did, his classmates laughed, and Toby felt his cheeks grow pink as he hunched his shoulders up. He didn’t understand what was so funny. 

“Everyone, we should hear what Toby has to say,” Ms. Daley said, seated at her desk. She looked back over at Toby. “Can you tell us about the maple syrup? Why did you chose it for show and tell?” 

“It’s magic,” he said, feeling the stick of old syrup on his fingers and against the sides of the container. “No matter how much I pour it’s not empty. And it’s the same bottle. I can tell because the sticker is always coming off.” He looked over at Ms. Daley, and held out the bottle. “Can I show everyone?” 

She thought about it a moment, looking around the room for something a 6-year-old could reasonably pour maple syrup into. Grabbing the disposable coffee cup off her desk, she popped off the lid, drank what little remained, and handed it to Toby. “Use this.” 

He set the coffee cup down on the table and squeezed gobs of maple syrup until the cup was half full. And then he spun the bottle right side up to reveal that the syrup had already replaced itself, and the bottle was still 3 quarters full. The children ooo-ed, as if they had seen a really cool magic trick. 

“See!” he proclaimed. “It’s magic!” 

Ms. Daley grinned and leaned across her desk. He could see the fascination in her eyes, under the rim of her glasses. “Oh my stars. You must have fairies,” she said. 

“Fairies?” Toby asked. 

“Oh yes. My grandmother had fairies in her house. She couldn’t see very well, so they would polish her glasses for her at night.” 

“I don’t remember seeing faeries,” he replied. 

“You wouldn’t.” She turned to address the class, “House fairies are teeny tiny little fairies who live inside the walls of your home or maybe in the garden. They’re so small and sneaky you don’t see them.” She pinched her fingers together to demonstrate. “But if they like you, they’ll leave you little presents, help with chores, or sometimes make things magic. Toby’s magic syrup bottle is probably a gift from the house fairies. It’s important to always be grateful. You should consider leaving a gift for the house fairies to say thank you.” 

He thought about that for a moment. “But what do I give them?” 

“House fairies love sweets. They like chocolate and sugar cubes. They also like little things like stamps and buttons; they use those things to make furniture. You should leave some gifts out for them, and tell us on Monday if the fairies liked your gift.” 

“I will!” he said with a big grin. 

“And be careful not to lose your syrup bottle,” she reminded him, as he went to place it back in his backpack. “The fairies would be very upset if they found out something happened to the present they gave you.” 

\----- 

When packing up at his cubby at the end of the day, Toby peeked inside his backpack to notice that the maple syrup bottle had disappeared. He looked around his cubby, on the floor, behind his coat, and it wasn’t there. 

He heard something pop and squeeze behind him as Trent held a syrup bottle over his mouth. A thick glob of brown syrup hovered over his tongue before plopping into his mouth. Trent laughed and held it up over another boy’s mouth, letting another glob fall. And the syrup bottle instantly refilled itself to the 3 quarter mark. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Trent to tease Toby. He would steal his ball at recess or sometimes take his crayons and then break them. Everytime Trent would tease him further, calling Toby selfish or a tattletale. Enough so that Toby elected never to speak up. But the syrup bottle was different. It was magic, and it was only for him. 

“That’s mine!” Toby yelled, marching over to Trent. “You didn’t ask to see it. Ms. Daley says you have to ask before you touch someone’s stuff.” 

Trent tucked the bottle into the crook of his arm. “But it’s show and tell. I get to see it if I want to.” Toby reached for the bottle, but Trent held it out of his reach. “I’m still looking!” 

“But I need it back! If I lose it the fairies will be mad at me!” 

“The fairies will be made at you for sharing?” Trent teased. 

“My dad will be here to pick me up. Give it back!” Swiping at the bottle one more time, Toby was barely able to grab at it before Trent pushed him out of the way. Spiralling down, Toby felt himself buckle against the tile floor. 

He was dazed for a moment, unsure what happened and how quickly it happened. He blinked, once to orient himself, twice to reevaluate the situation, and a third time to fill him with fury. Pushing himself off the floor, Toby glowered, a swell for revenge growing in him. He raised a hand, and hit Trent on the shoulder and then again on the arm. “Give it back!” he cried. He tried to pry at Trent’s arms and hands, looking for the syrup bottle but unable to find it. 

With a wail, Trent cried out. “Ms. Daley, Toby is hitting me!” 

Her voice cut through the chatter and the rage, causing Toby to go still. “Toby!” Embarrassed, he stepped away, face turning bright red. She marched up to him, a serious frown plastered on her face. “That is not how we deal with problems, Toby.” 

“But he took my syrup bottle and then he pushed me!” 

Ms. Daley looked over. “Trent, did you take something without asking first.” 

“No, I didn’t.” Trent held up his empty hands. “I didn’t take anything. Toby hit me!” he continued to cry. 

Ms. Daley crossed her arms. “This is unexpected behavior, Toby. I’ll have to have a talk with both of your parents and the principal.” 

\------ 

He could hear his father’s voice through the door of the principal’s office. “No, I understand. Lashing out isn’t normal for Toby. I’ll talk to him about it; see what’s going on.” There was no greater childhood shame than sitting outside the door, waiting for your parent to emerge from a less than flattering meeting with your teacher. 

Sitting in the plastic chair beside him was Trent, with an angry but smug look on his face. Toby hunched himself over, gripping to the backpack on his lap. “Give it back,” he muttered, as if tired of saying it. 

“Give what back?” 

“My syrup bottle. Give it back. If I don’t get it back the fairies will be mad at me.” 

Trent grinned, “I don’t have it anymore. I told Ms. Daley that.” 

“You do! Show me your backpack,” Toby declared. Trent held out his bag, mockingly so, the zipper wide open like a jaw agape. Toby looked inside: no syrup bottle. 

“Told you,” Trent said. “I think you lost it.” 

It was perplexing how a 6-year-old could be so mean, but stranger things had happened. 

The door creaked open and Toby looked up to see his dad anxiously rubbing at the bridge of his nose, having knocked his thick rimmed glasses slightly askew. He stood there a moment, obviously thinking, and thinking hard. 

“Daddy, I--” he started. 

“Not now, Toby,” he said. “Let’s just go home.” 

“But I need to tell you about the--” 

Dipper lowered his hand from his face, a serious glare in his dark eyes. “Not now.” There was nothing angry or violent about his words. In fact, he presented himself as relatively calm. But it was the first time Toby recognized there might be something scary about his father. 

Toby looked over his shoulder, watching Trent stick out a mocking tongue at him, and grabbed onto his dad’s hand in preparation for a long and silent drive home. 

\----- 

Usually, after school, Toby would sit in the living room and show his father his art projects or demonstrate his ability to do basic addition and subtraction problems. But on this particular evening, he was sent to his room. He took this to mean that he had been placed in a time-out and was about to be punished. However, the true reasoning was quite different. He was being sheltered from the demon that paced back and forth in the living room, the anxious shadows that twitched and curled around the house. 

(It’s not uncommon for 6-year-olds to hit or even bite). Rambled the demon’s omniscience. (They have limited use of language and reasoning skills that won’t develop until age 11. Hitting is often a sign of frustration and not knowing how to talk about it. It doesn’t mean anything about Bill Cipher.) 

  
  


Just because Bill had a taste for revenge didn’t mean Toby was like him. 

Meanwhile, Toby dumped the contents of his backpack on the floor and checked again. Notebook, homework folder, lunchbox, various drawings from free time, and no maple syrup bottle. He sat on the floor in thought. The fairies would surely be angry with him, he had to make it up to them. 

Ms. Daley had said fairies liked to get gifts. So maybe if he gave them some nice presents, they wouldn’t be so mad at him. 

First, he thought the fairies might like some furniture. He took some of his plastic connector blocks and built a small table with 2 stools. He used 2 pennies for plates and a piece of red construction paper for the table cloth. But if he was going to make them a table, they really ought to have some food. 

He scrambled for his lunchbox. Ms. Daley had said that fairies liked sweets, so he decided not to eat the candy bar his dad put in his lunch in hopes that the fairies would like it instead. He slipped a finger under the wrapper, to break it open, but then stopped. Slowly, he slid it out, and set the whole thing next to the table. 

He stared at it, for longer and longer periods of time, waiting for one of the fairies to come out of the wall or perhaps by the window and take his gift. Nothing happened. Eventually he began to feel drowsy from waiting. 

Then there was a knock on the door, and his father stepped into the room. There was something not right about him, but Toby couldn’t figure out what. “Alright, Tobes. We have to talk about,” he stopped, taking notice of the small table and disproportionately large chocolate bar beside it. “Uhm. What’s this for?” 

“I’m giving presents to the house fairies, so they won’t be mad at me for losing the maple syrup bottle.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Toby sighed, “The maple syrup bottle, it’s never empty. I took it to school for show and tell and Ms. Daley said the house fairies did it. But then Trent stole it from me. So I hit him.”

“What do you mean the maple syrup is... _ oooohhh _ .” That was the moment Dipper realized what had happened. “I understand now.” He sat down next to Toby on the floor, legs awkwardly propped up around the small fairy offering. 

He never actually intended to enchant the maple syrup bottle, causing it to refill itself spontaneously. But it seemed that his magic had gotten away from him. And all the memories he shared about syrup races and the smell of Grunkle Stan’s pancakes had manifested within the maple syrup bottle.

(That’s the price you pay for withholding your magic and controlling your impulses so often. It’s going to start leaking out. Chaos demands an outlet and you are continually denying it with these constant human charades.) (Just be thankful it was only a maple syrup bottle and not something deadly.)

He cleared his throat nervously. “Is that why you made this for the fairies? So they won’t feel mad?” 

“Ms. Daley said they like sweets. If I share, they might give me a new maple syrup bottle.” 

“Ahh, I see. So that’s your offering, huh?” A faint and knowing smile played on Dipper’s lips. 

Toby slowly repeated the word. “Offering?” 

“Yeah, it’s something you give a magical creature to get their attention and make them like you. And if they like your present they will give you something back. But,” he brushed some of the hair out of Toby’s eyes, “there’s one more step to get the fairies’ attention. You have to tell them there is an offering and what you want.” 

“How do I do that?” 

“Well,” he wrapped one hand around Toby’s as if ceremonial. “You’ll have to repeat after me.” Toby gave an attentive nod. “I have an offering for you.” 

“I have an offering for you.” 

“In exchange.” 

“In ex-cange.” 

(Close enough.) 

“For a new magic maple syrup bottle.” 

“For a new magic maple syrup bottle.” Something felt like static between their hands, like the buzz of electricity and ions around an old TV set. But Dipper pulled his hand away before Toby could register the feeling. 

“That’s it,” Dipper said. “Now all you have to do is wait to see if the fairies like your gift.” 

Toby was quiet for a moment. “Will they be mad at Trent for taking my bottle?” 

“Probably. It wasn’t very nice of him to do that.” Dipper sighed, remembering the real reason why he wanted to talk to Toby. “Is Trent mean to you all the time?” Toby nodded and looked away, ashamed. “Why don’t you tell Ms. Daley?” 

“Because Trent calls me mean names when I try to!” 

“You know,” Dipper said, inching closer to Toby until their hips touched. “I had bullies when I was a kid. They called me mean names, pushed me around. There were some bullies who were a lot bigger and stronger than me. They would try to hurt me and my sister.” 

“What did you do?” Toby asked. 

He gave a dark but playful grin. “I hit them back, really hard.” He pressed his back into the frame of Toby’s bed. “I understand why you hit Trent. He must make you very angry. But that doesn’t mean it’s always okay to hit people. It wasn’t always okay when I hit people either. Sometimes you have to forgive people, even if you don’t want to. If someone is mean to you, go tell Ms. Daley.” It was ironic that the demon was giving anti-violence advice, given his own body count. “It’s unfair that Trent gets to be mean to you. But I don’t want you to get in trouble again.” 

“Okay,” Toby sighed. He hunched up into his shoulders. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No, I’m not. And I’m sure the fairies won’t be mad either.” 

“Really?”

“Yup.” He got up off the floor and stretched, though he didn’t need to as he didn’t technically have a body, he just wanted to. “So, how about we get some dinner? I was thinking about chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs.”

Bouncing off the floor, Toby headed for the door. “Yes! Yes! I want all the T-Rexs! I’m gonna bite off their heads and then dunk them in ketchup!” 

Dipper chuckled and ushered Toby into the hallway, “Hey, let’s not be bullies to the dinosaurs.”

Toby didn’t notice the shadows in the corner of the room that snatched up the offering. 

And the following morning, he would wake up to a maple syrup bottle on his bedside table that was always 2 thirds full and smelled like a childhood memory that wasn’t his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely think this is some of the best magic realism writing I’ve ever done.


	5. A Visit From an Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper receives a warning from a friend.

The cart followed down the predetermined magnetic pathway of the grocery store. The air had that distinct smell of watered down vegetables, plastic, and cardboard boxes from frozen meals. Toby draped himself over the edge of the cart, letting his fingers run across the cold ledge of the produce aisle. “But Daddy,” he whined, “I want candy. Just one. One candy.” 

“I want candy too, kiddo,” Dipper replied, grabbing a bag of carrots off the shelf and holding them up. (One week old, they picked up some dirt on the way to the store. Not to mention the last guy who touched them had the flu.) (Pick the one three rows to the left, two deep.) Dipper set the carrots down and picked up the package on the left, dropping them into the cart. “But we need to eat fruits and vegetables too.” 

“Says who?” Toby grumbled, dropping back into the metal cart and crossing his arms in a displeased huff. 

“Grown-ups,” Dipper replied.

“You’re a grown-up. If you say so we can eat only candy.” 

“I’m not much of a grown up on the inside.” He continued to push the cart down to the next aisle, though the powerful hovering magnets did most of the work. “Vegetables are good, I guess. We should eat more of them.” Picking up a head of lettuce, he grimaced. He couldn’t say he liked vegetables, not that it mattered when you could swallow any item whole. But he needed to make sure Toby was healthy, and that meant having to cut some of the candy from his own diet for awhile. It could be good for him. Eating like a human might help him reconnect to his humanity. After all, he did have a bad habit of eating things that weren’t actually food like silverware, pens, or souls. 

He enjoyed doing normal things like grocery shopping. Though things had changed drastically over the years, like having droids do all your shopping and the discontinuation of some of his favorite snack foods, it was still relatively mundane. It reminded him of going to the store with Lionel and Belle, following behind his father begging for a box of sugary cereal (despite having the ability to conjure anything he wanted at will). Or asking Mira to buy him chocolate covered peanuts when she did her grocery shopping, but then she would buy chocolate raisins instead because “he hadn’t earned them”. 

He rolled into the Alter Dietary aisle, which was to say it was the section of the store that sold blood, bones, lembas, or any other supernatural delicacy one might desire. It was a shortcut to the canned goods aisle. But as he passed by, he caught sight of a familiar red cape standing in front of the blood bottles. “Shit,” he muttered, veering the cart into the bread and cereal aisle. Pulling the hood of his jacket over his brown hair, Dipper attempted to not make himself obvious. He rubbed between his eyes, an old nervous habit, knocking his glasses askew. 

“Shit!” Toby repeated, a smile across his face. 

“No, no. Only Daddy gets to say that word. That’s Daddy’s word.” Glancing over his shoulder, Dipper attempted to see if the red caped figure had noticed him. Lucy Ann had a habit of tracking him down no matter where he seemed to go or how he disguised himself. In any other context he would have been glad to see Lucy Ann, but in a grocery store with Toby in tow, it was as if fate picked the worst time for them to cross paths again. “Oh shit,” he muttered to himself again. 

“Why is shit your word?” Toby asked, pleasurably unaware of the nervous disposition that overcame his father. 

“Because the grown-ups said so.” He’d have to creep into Toby’s mindscape later and delete the word ‘shit’ before this became a problem. He checked over his shoulder again, Lucy Ann still preoccupied by the blood selection. “Come on, kiddo, I think we should--” there was a flash of red. Now standing at the front of the cart, right behind Toby, Lucy Ann glowered at him. 

When she spoke, he could see the curve of her fangs behind her lips. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Dipper looked to Toby, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “How about you pick out any one cereal you want while I go into the next aisle? Only one.” 

Toby grinned, “Even the kind with marshmallows?” 

“Any kind you want; just stay in the cart.” 

As Toby became preoccupied with the extensive selection of high-sugar cereals with funny animal mascots, Dipper carefully passed by Lucy Ann, attempting not to draw any attention. The two curved into the canned meat aisle, which was thankfully and obviously, empty. Pulling down the hood of his jacket he approached his old friend. “What are you doing here,” he whispered, a sharp and violent hiss to his words.

“I’m here because you didn’t answer my summons! I got the answering machine!” Lucy Ann snarled back at him, her threatening tone uninfluenced by her tiny 6-year-old body. “Also, you’re not very good at hiding. Lots of Alcor sightings in this area. Not to mention you reek of demon.” 

He rolled his eyes, but tried to casually sniff at his shirt. He didn’t smell anything weird. “Well, did you leave a message?” 

“I’m your friend! I shouldn’t have to leave a message.” 

“I’m sorry but I’ve been busy lately,” he replied, trying not to make a big deal out of it. 

She turned her head to the bread and cereal aisle and the sound of rustling cardboard boxes. “With the kid?” 

He flushed a comical, dark red. “Maybe.” 

“Are you insane?” she snapped. Lucy Ann took a few steps closer and spoke in a very articulate and low voice, a serious glaze in her eyes. “You’re a demon! You shouldn’t be playing house. You have bigger problems than that.” 

“What problems do you think I have?” 

Her dark eyes shifted across the aisles, highlighted by the electric glow of the overhead fluorescents. Curling in a finger she beckoned him to lean in closer, “Don’t freak out but…” Reaching into the pocket of her red cape, she produced a crumpled up piece of paper. Smoothening it out, she held it out to Dipper. Despite being crumpled, the paper felt oddly firm, and the writing on it was thick and sloppy with black ink. 

_BOUNTY_

_BILL CIPHER (INCARNATION)_

_Human child. Aged 6-7. Last seen in European Republic Dimension 47’/._

_Wanted Alive_

_Reward: priceless_

_If found summon Kryptos_

Dipper bit down on the inside of his cheek. He crammed the poster into his pocket. 

Lucy Ann sighed, drawing her gaze away. “I found that… well, I was somewhere pretty shady. Let’s not focus on that part. I asked around and it sounds like Kryptos was an old friend of Bill’s. I don’t know what he’d want a kid for; but if it’s what I’m afraid of, he’ll be after you next.” 

He shrugged, a soft pink spurt of blush forming across his cheeks. “Yeah, I sort of already knew about this.” He had, in fact, known for a long time. 

“What do you mean you…” she again looked to the next aisle over. Her jaw dropped, revealing the tiny white fangs in her mouth. “The child.” Looking back up at him there was a judgmental scrunch in her brow, “What have you gotten yourself into?” 

“Look, this isn’t the safest place to have this conversation.” Conjuring a business card, he crammed it hastily in Lucy Ann’s cold palm and closed her fingers around it. “Meet me at this address at 8:30 pm. He will be in bed and then we can talk freely.” 

“You are not pushing me off,” she demanded, though her voice remained a whisper. “This is serious!” 

Walking back around into the next aisle, he spoke in a voice that was just a bit too loud and theatrical, “I’m sorry, little girl. I haven’t seen your mom. Maybe you should ask a servicedrone.” 

If Lucy Ann still had blood pumping through her veins her face would have been flushed. She crumpled the business card in her hand. “Why is he like this?” she muttered to herself before reluctantly returning to her shopping. 

When Dipper returned, Toby held a 3 pack of marshmallow Penta-grahams cereal propped up in his lap. “This counts as one!” 

Dipper was too distracted by glancing back over his shoulder at Lucy Ann to correct Toby. “I think it’s time we head home, kiddo.” 

\------- 

“... and then he walked into the woods.” The lamp on the bedside table glowed with the soft caress of magic. Dipper often kept the lights at a soft amber before bed, just bright enough for Toby to follow along with the book he had selected to read, but dim enough that he would start to feel drowsy. Dipper sat on the bed, Toby’s head resting propped up against his thigh. This particular night he requested a new chapter book _The House that Walked Away._ Closing the book, Dipper set it down on the bedside table. “That’s the end of chapter one, kiddo.” 

“Please, just one more,” Toby said with a yawn. 

Pulling back his sleeve, Dipper checked the watch that materialized on his wrist. 8:24. If Lucy Ann was anything, it was reliable and prompt. “Not tonight, sleepy head.” Carefully, he tucked Toby’s head against his pillow and slipped off the bed. 

“But I’m,” Toby yawned again, eyes fluttering to stay open, “not tired. I want to hear more of the story.”

Dipper chuckled. He used to tell his mother the same thing as a child, just so that he could listen to her read more. And by the time he was old enough to read on his own he would keep a flashlight beneath his pillow so he could read under the covers. He even read to Mabel’s triplets in their dreams, bringing the stories to life around them. The bedtime ritual was particularly significant to him, and he was delighted he had a child of his own to share it with. 

Leaning down, he pulled the space-themed blankets up to Toby’s shoulder. “You’ll get to hear plenty of stories in your dreams.” Settling into the bed, Toby curled into the covers and closed his eyes. “Good night,” Dipper whispered, placing a kiss on top of Toby’s head. As Toby breathed, the soft curls around his face tossed with each breath. Clicking off the lamplight, Dipper could feel the tide of sleep sink into Toby’s head. With a regretful sigh, he left the bedroom. 

Pressing his back up against the wall, Dipper pulled the bounty poster out of his pocket. The longer he looked at it the more he could see the magic take its effect, changing the wording on the poster into different languages from across the universe: English, then Finnish, Kadivkl, then ///|\//\\\|/. He was used to seeing bounty posters, when he was younger it wasn’t uncommon for older demons to put a bounty on his head, or to treat him like an animal hunted for sport. But seeing one for Toby just made his stomach turn. 

Checking his watch again, Dipper walked up the front door and opened it just as Lucy Ann had raised her hand to knock. She looked up at him, a stern and displeased frown, face illuminated in the porch lights. The only sound between them was the wind wrapping itself in her red cape. She looked down at her feet, toes up against the door way. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

He blinked. “Right. Come in, Lucy Ann.”

She stepped inside, eyes wandering around the house. Dipper had done his best to create a perfectly mundane household. Too mundane actually. Come to think of it, he might have gone a little overboard. Clean but not entirely organized. There were some toys stacked in a chest against the wall, a small pair of shoes by the door, a few school and vacation photos hung on the wall. The air smelled like the hamburgers he had made for dinner that night. It was the kind of house that you would see on a TV sitcom or maybe in a magazine. It gave anyone who looked at it the sense that something might be wrong, even though nothing appeared to be. 

Dipper shed his human disguise, even shrinking himself down to 12-year-old height. It felt nice not to shapeshift in his own home, to feel like he wasn’t wearing layers of tight plastic or latex wrapped around his form. He realized he must have looked incredibly out of place, something dark and chaotic in an otherwise perfect family home. 

He bent down, moving the stuffed animals Toby was using to play zoo off the couch. Lucy Ann paid a curious attention to him. Watching as he picked up the bear and pig and griffin one by one and tucking them under his arm. “I never thought I’d see you play parent. Isn’t 12 a little young to be a dad?” 

“Haha,” Dipper spat, setting the stuffed animals down on the far end of the couch. “Isn’t 6 a little young to be running your mouth like that?” 

“Fair point.” 

He hovered over the couch beside her, biting down on one of his claws the way a human might bite their nails. Despite centuries of friendship, the two sat in a sharp silence. Like running into someone you were once close with but haven’t spoken to in 13 years, and then sitting next to them on a 9 hour flight to Yemen. 

Lucy Ann pulled the red cape around her shoulders, as if she were cold, though it was impossible for her to be. “The kid, what’s his name?” 

Ceasing to bite on his claws for just a moment, Dipper adjusted his back as if he were sitting uncomfortably. “Toby.” 

“How long have you been--”

“3 years, almost 4.” 

She didn’t respond to that. Not for a while. “Look, I came here to tell you to lay low and stay out of trouble. But it looks like I’m a little late for that.” 

“Have I ever been the kind of person to stay out of trouble?” 

She chuckled, “Definitely not. You’re as dumb as they come.” Looking back over to the pile of toys against the wall, Lucy Ann sighed. “So how did you find out about all of this?” 

Leaning forward, Dipper pressed his elbows into his knees, hands and fingers intertwining with his hair. “There was attack run by Kryptos and his gang in The European Republic a few years ago. I heard they were looking for Bill’s incarnation so I went to go investigate. And that’s when I found Toby.” 

“What do they want him for? He’s a human child, totally harmless.” She curled her feet up onto the couch, tucking her legs inwards. 

His mouth tasted bitter like old pennies or stale blood. “Kryptos was one of Bill's goons during Weirdmaggedon." If Dipper closed his eyes, he could still see the giant tear opening up over the sky, the thick and unnatural turning of the sky to a heated orange color. The sound of Bill's laugh echoing over the town like a crash of lightning. "He isn’t too pleased that I killed his friend… apparently he found a way to bring Bill back by,” he swallowed, mouth uncharacteristically dry, “killing me. But I beat him to it and found Toby first. I decided that the only way to prevent Bill from coming back was to protect Toby. I knew that if I let him go free... Kryptos would find him again. So I’ve been using my magic to hide him ever since.” 

Lucy Ann was quiet for a moment. Dipper wasn’t particularly used to their conversations being so silent or thoughtful. Usually, they were teasing each other, acting like children without adult supervision (which they were). But now, things were uncharacteristically serious and stern between them. He resumed biting on his claw. 

“What are you going to do if they find him,” she asked. 

His words were muffled by the impulse to chew on something when nervous. “Fight back, I guess?” 

“But if you lose--” 

“I don’t want to think about that.” 

Lucy Ann thought on this for a moment, thousands of years of wisdom trapped within her youthful face. “Why did you really bring Toby with you? You’re clever; you could have found other ways to keep him hidden. Why this?” 

Dipper opened his mouth “I…” And then he stopped, as if ashamed. The edges of his wings curled around his shoulders. Pulling his knees up, Dipper tucked his head forward, making a cocoon for himself. “I just thought that if I gave him a second chance at love and forgiveness he might,” he sighed, overcome with so many thoughts and desires. “Toby might stand a chance against Bill. If I can bridge this gap between us, then this can all stop. Maybe I won’t have to worry about Bill ever again.” 

“You really think that will work?” 

“I saw it with Ian, how much Mira’s love saved him,” he pressed his face further into his knees, fighting off a wave of angry grief that that broke over him. “I don’t want Toby to suffer the way he did. Toby is a child who deserves better than to be punished for something that he doesn’t understand.” Dipper hated to admit it, but he saw a lot of himself in Toby. A child who was pulled into something much greater than himself, punished despite having done nothing wrong. 

Lucy Ann pucked her lips together. “You really care about Toby, don’t you? This isn’t about the demons or Bill. This is about him.” 

The curls of Dipper’s hair bunched up at his knees when he nodded, “He’s the most important thing in the world to me right now.” 

When the Transcendence happened, Dipper felt as if he were eternally trapped as a child. Never able to go to high school, learn to drive, get a job… be a parent. And while sometimes he was able to sneak his way into reality, masquerading as a human or joining a family, it always felt artificial. No matter what he did, he was always pretending. Humans didn’t magically know all the answers on their final exam or could move a car with their mind. He watched Mabel, and Belle, and Mira all grow up and live the life he so desperately wanted. 

But then Toby happened. And, for once, Dipper didn’t have to pretend. Toby was his child and no amount of magic could change that… or so he thought. 

Lucy Ann sighed, a sympathetic heat melting away at her hardened exterior. “If you care about him, then you need to consider the possibility that this doesn’t work. That you pour all of your love and effort into this kid and Bill still comes back. Even if you hide Toby for the rest of his life, he will reincarnate. For his sake and yours, prepare for the worst.” 

There was something soft to her expression, pitiful almost. Not for his sorrow or grief, but for the fact that he was still attached to humans in a way that Lucy Ann had given up several centuries ago. And as much as Dipper hated that look, he knew she was right. Humans would only make him hurt. 

“I won’t let the worst happen,” he declared. 

“I hope that it doesn’t. I want you to be happy but I also don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He sucked a breath, no air came in. “I know.” Peeking up at her, he unfurled himself from his wings, a dark red glow on his cheeks, unsure if it was from embarrassment or grief. “Thanks for being so worried about me that you stalked me across multiple state lines.” 

“Eh? What are friends for?” She punched him in the arm as hard as she could. It didn’t hurt. Sliding off the couch, she adjusted the red tie around her neck. He still had a hard time believing capes were actually fashionable for vampires. Not that demons were particularly fashionable either. “I guess I should be going,” she replied. 

“So soon? You just got here.” 

She flashed him a bright white and fanged grin. “What can I say? I’m popular," she said with self-important shrug. 

"Come by another time though, will you?" A teasing grin crumpled up at the corners of his mouth and around his nose. “Maybe you and Toby can have a playdate.” 

She hissed at him, baring all of her teeth, “You think that’s funny!” 

“I do.” Rising from the couch, he stretched out his back, his wings casting out like a shadow. “Come on, I owe you one. I’ll blip you wherever you need to go.”

“You owe me several,” she huffed, already irritated by his antics. "Answer my damn summons from now on." A slick blue circle appeared beneath his feet and Lucy Ann walked to his side. The circle lit up, and then they were gone. 

\-------

The bedroom door creaked open, a crack of light bursting in. “Daddy?” Toby peeled his way into the room. 

Dipper had been lying on the bed, staring at nothing, thinking about everything. He had removed his glasses (which served no real purpose) and left them out on the bed. It had been hours after Lucy Ann left, but her words still rolled like thunder in his head. Despite not needing to sleep, he found having his own bedroom increased the normalcy of his human facade, as well as gave him a place to think and be alone. 

“What is it Toby?” he asked. “Why aren’t you in bed?” 

He stood there sniffling, his dinosaur pajamas twisted around his legs and torso as if he had been tossing and turning in bed. “Can I sleep with you? I had a bad dream.” 

That was strange. He made certain every night to influence Toby’s dreams. It was a Tuesday, which meant Toby was supposed to have dreams about the balloon kingdom (Dipper was quite proud of that story line). Having a nightmare didn’t seem possible. Dipper propped himself up on one elbow and motioned for Toby to come, “Pop on up here, kiddo.” 

Toby scrambled for the bed and hid himself under the covers. He crawled up beside his father, and when Dipper tried to make more room for him, Toby cried out, “No! Nest!” 

When Dipper first brought Toby home with him, he had trouble sleeping. Toby would cry all night or have such bad dreams he’d wake up in a panic. And Toby was still so young then, barely 3, that Dipper decided the best way to calm him was to lay by his side while he slept. That way he could focus on just the slow release of dream magic onto the child. Taking quickly to this, Toby began to call it “nesting” and would curl up in a pit of blankets with his head pressed against his father’s chest. Dipper didn’t mind this at all. 

“Okay,” he whispered, allowing Toby to curl up beside him and wrapping one arm around him. Toby was shaking, as if caught in a cold wind. “Must have been a really bad dream, huh?” Taking the back his index finger, Dipper traced along the side of Toby’s cheek; something that Mabel did for her children, and that they in turn did for theirs. “Wanna tell me about it?” 

Toby’s voice was muffled. “There was a monster!” That didn’t seem unusual. Children had dreams about monsters all the time. The ones that hide in closets or under beds, as well as the one that appeared in the car commercial (he was unsettling). 

“Oh? And what did this monster look like?” he asked. 

“It was this big scary triangle! And it laughed at me!” 

Dipper froze over. It had been a long time since he felt so paralyzed by fear, since he could feel his stomach tie up in knots. He stopped tracing his finger against Toby’s cheek. “Did it say anything to you?” Toby whimpered and pressed his face further against Dipper. “What was it?” 

“It told me to hurt you!” he cried. 

Dipper held his breath; not caring if he stopped breathing completely in front of Toby. “Did you say anything back?” 

“No.” 

He nodded, “Okay.” He had to keep it together. He _shhh_ ed into Toby’s ear, “It’s okay now. I’m right here. I-I won’t let the monster come back.” 

Toby sniffled, again. “Promise?” 

Dipper felt something in him break. He was all about making deals, being good on his word. But this was a promise he didn’t know if he could keep. “I promise.” 

Curling closer inwards, Toby continued to cry, a shiver running through his small fingers as he gripped to Dipper’s shirt. And he couldn’t bear to watch it. Despite his near infinite knowledge, Dipper didn’t know much about being a grown-up. Let alone a parent. But in that moment he learned there was no worse pain than watching your child suffer through something they didn’t understand. 

“Hey. I know a trick that will help you fall back asleep,” he whispered. “I promise you won’t have anymore nightmares. Just relax, close your eyes, and start counting to 10.” 

“1, 2, 3,” as Toby counted Dipper placed a hand on top of his head and quickly sent him into a state of drowsiness. “4, 5, …6,” Toby yawned. “7...8...9…” By the time Toby reached 10 he had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

That was when the panic settled in. The tightness in his chest, the shake in his hands, all the things he thought went away when you didn’t have a real body anymore. He looked over at Toby, now peacefully sleeping, head tucked into a halo of golden curls. He pulled Toby in a little bit closer, as if that would help at all. “Please, no,” he whispered. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t take him from me. I’m not ready for the worst. I’ll do anything. Just don’t take him away from me.” 

The darkness seemed to curl against his spine. And somewhere in the nothingness, just against the breach of his consciousness, Dipper could feel something sinister lurking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has put up with me in the process of writing this. Insecurity has been high as has stress. I'm glad to have levelheaded people pulling me back down. :)


	6. A History With Animation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby starts watching an all too familiar cartoon.

When Dipper heard the theme song, it struck like a bolt of lightning down his spine. 

Let’s talk about cartoons for a moment. Dipper always loved cartoons. On Saturday mornings he’d wake up early and sneak into the living room to pour himself a bowl of cereal (which occasionally turned into a rather large mess) and sit on the floor in front of the television to watch cartoons from the 1960’s; grainy from the distortion of appearing on a larger screen nearly 40 years later. He loved the stories about the future or aliens from outer space. There was something charming about the way animation bounced with life, how the colors seemed to leak from his television set. 

He hoped that cartoons would never change. But, like all things, they did. What once started out as images of shadow puppets and paper cut outs was soon overthrown by cell art, computer animation, and eventually by pictures brought to life by magic and made to act out scenes (the ethics of such a thing was still being discussed in professional circles). Screens got bigger and it wasn’t long until immersive, holographic screens became all the rage. 

It made sense that TV and movies from hundreds of years ago would still be on the air. Humans had gotten very good at documenting everything, and with 7,000 available channels on TV, it was guaranteed some of them would offer classics from throughout the centuries. Not to mention the demographic of vampires and other immortal/ long living creatures who enjoyed watching television of the old days would surely have an impact on the market. Dipper himself didn’t mind turning on the TV to enjoy a show from when he and Belle were young. But there was one cartoon in particular he wished never to see again. 

Some indistinct number of years ago, a certain cartoonist thought it might be funny to recount the adventures of a demon and his sister (more often than not at the demon’s expense) which seemed all too familiar. The show was mostly harmless, though the truth lingered underneath its surface, like the pulsing of blood underneath someone’s skin. It’s not that he found the show bad or unenjoyable. He had, in fact, offered his services as a creative consultant to ensure that at least part of the story was true. 

Mostly, he was just afraid of who might see this particular cartoon. 

Dipper stalked into the living room, keeping his back close to the wall, as if afraid something might sneak up on him. Toby lounged on the floor, stomach propped up on a pillow. The holo was turned to channel 4379, specifically dedicated to cartoons from the early 3000’s. Toby giggled as the main character made an endearing fart noise with her mouth. The show was charming, featuring a complex mystery and jokes that sometimes went over kids’ heads. It was exactly what you expected of a cartoon. 

There was just one problem: that particular cartoon was _Mizar the Magnificent_ , which was created by a man named Ian Beale, who also happened to be an incarnation of Bill Cipher. 

The dream Toby had about Bill days earlier had never returned, though Toby was so shaken he spent the next several nights curled up beside his father. And Dipper felt continuously on edge. It was as if he could feel a constant static against the back of his neck, something slowly trying to creep up behind him. Toby wasn’t safe and Dipper didn’t know what to do. He hoped that Toby wouldn’t succumb to Bill’s influence, but now he wasn’t so hopeful. 

Bill was clever and manipulative. _Mizar the Magnificent_ wasn’t a warning or a sign, it was Bill’s first move. His attempt to awaken old memories in Toby. And Dipper couldn’t allow himself to slip up. He couldn’t let Toby know anything was wrong. 

Dipper cleared his throat, signalling his presence to Toby. “Something good on TV, kiddo?” 

Toby curled around, now sitting on top of the pillow he had taken from the couch. “Mhm. I found this cool show! Mizar the… Magnicent.” 

“Magnificent,” he repeated. Dipper crouched down beside Toby, trying not to look at the screen, despite already knowing which episode it was. It was the one where Alcor and Mizar fight off a cult of evil memory erasers. It was the kind of episode that pierced deep into his soul. “I’m surprised you like this show,” he continued. “It’s pretty old.” 

“It’s funny,” Toby replied. “Mizar makes fart noises.” Toby stuck out his tongue and repeated one. 

Dipper chuckled, “Yes, I remember. She did a lot of that.” 

“You’ve seen this show?” Dipper hated the way Toby looked up at him in a bright, hazel eyed wonder. 

He replied with a reluctance dripping from his tongue, “Uhm. Yes.” 

“Who is your favorite character?”

It didn’t take him long to think about it. “I like Mizar. She was funny, kind, and creative.” He looked up at the screen, the dark eyes of the only immortal Mizar looking back at him. “I like Alcor too, but they made his character kind of a paranoid, control freak. I don’t know why.” 

“Hmmm,” Toby said as if in deep thought. “I like Bael. He’s my favorite.” 

There was one more thing about _Mizar the Magnificent_. While it contained the familiar story of a brother and a sister, it also contained a demon and an apocalypse. That demon was named Bael; and it was his goal to destroy the world and Alcor permanently. 

Sound familiar? 

Dipper swallowed, feeling like something was trying to claw its way through his throat. “But he’s the bad guy,” he said, attempting to keep his voice from breaking or wavering under the pressure. “Don’t you like Mizar? Sam? What about Grandpa Stu?” 

“Yeah, but Bael is funny,” Toby replied, rolling absent-mindedly onto his back. “He sings sometimes. And he makes the screaming heads show up and he does an evil laugh.” 

Dipper cut him off. “But isn’t that scary?” 

Pressing his lips together and making a ‘hmmm’ sound, Toby thought about that. “No. It’s silly. Because cartoons are silly. They’re not real.” 

Looking down, Dipper tried to focus on Toby instead of the cartoon bouncing across the holoscreen. The pile of curls on Toby’s head or how his tiny hands laid, palms up on the carpeted floor. 

“Right,” he replied. “It’s not real.” 

\-------

Toby’s fascination with _Mizar the Magnificent_ only grew over time. He snuck into the living room at night or in the early mornings just to catch a peek at the show. He drew pictures and comics of the show to have hung on the fridge and designated some of his toys to play the roles of Alcor, Mizar and Bael. Sometimes Dipper would overhear Toby engaged in play, and feel the sudden need to close his eyes or cover his ears in order to fight the onslaught of his own memories.

He had to believe this was normal. Children played pretend all the time. He certainly did as a child. Sometimes Mabel would ask him to play the villain in her fairy tales, or he and Belle would play mysterious magical artifact thieves. Playing pretend was an important development for a child Toby’s age, no matter what role he was playing. This was just the rare occasion when the villain of a TV show was based on a child’s former life as a psychopathic demon. 

However, Toby’s imagined scenarios continued to become more elaborate and detailed, even to the point that dolls were no longer cutting it for him. It wasn’t long until he took to playing pretend, integrating it into the everyday. Dipper would sometimes catch him practicing an evil laugh in the mirror, or throwing a ball and pretending it was fire. 

One particular evening, he received a call from the first grade teacher, Ms. Daley, who was obviously concerned enough to call Dipper during her off hours. _“I’m a bit concerned about Toby,”_ she told him, her image reflected in the MagiOrb, slightly distorted by the technological mirage. _“He’s been refusing to write his name on his assignments.”_

“What do you mean?” Dipper said, leaning closer into the MagiOrb, as if coming closer would clarify the situation. The blue light radiated off it, casting deep shadows on his face and illuminating the glasses he wore as a human decoration. While masquerading as a human, he tried to keep his omniscience under tight control. While he used it to ensure Toby’s safety at all costs, he also didn’t want to get into the habit of spying all the time. 

_“At first I thought he was forgetting, but when I asked him about it today he told me that Toby wasn’t his real name. I don’t mean to pry, but was Toby adopted? Was his name changed at any point in time?”_

Dipper swallowed, he wasn’t sure how but his mouth felt dry and tasted sour. “He was. But I didn’t change his first name.” Taking in a gulp of air didn’t change the taste in his mouth, “Did he mention what he thought his name was?” 

_“Uhm.”_ He could hear her tapping a pen against a wooden table. _“Bail? I think?”_

He reminded himself not to breath, not to think too hard about it. Clenching his hands together he felt the faint poke of claws against his skin. He realized that he had been silent for several seconds. “Toby has been pretending to be a character from a TV show, recently. I’ll have a talk with him about it. Remind him that he can’t play his game at school.” 

_“That’s a relief to know. They say children refusing to write their name is a sign of coming from a traumatic past-incarnation. I was going to recommend you take him in for testing.”_

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, perhaps speaking too quickly. 

It had become a fad several centuries ago among wealthy parents to take their children in for incarnation-testing, which via magic would seek to find an imprint on an individual’s soul as well as combine ethnographic information to attempt to identify a person’s past life. Dipper initially thought this was bogus. How could any magically infused machine do what demons did (and not even all that well)? But over time technology improved. One of the game changers being a woman who’s soul didn’t settle right in her body, allowing her to naturally see a person’s past lives upon contact, and therefore she provided a half-way decent magic map to uncovering the nature of the metaphysical. 

As time passed, more and more people found value in past lives, offering scholarships and opportunities to children who were once great scholars, leaders, or activists. For people whose past lives weren’t so righteous? You can imagine the scrutiny they faced. Some schools even began to require testing in order to “provide opportunities for students and help them discover their pre-life talents”, a thought which made Dipper very nervous. He knew what would happen if Toby was ever caught. He’d seen it before with Ian. And given Toby’s slowly rising awareness about Bill, he was becoming even more worried. 

He cleared his throat, “Thank you for calling, but something very important has just come up.” Ms. Daley was only halfway through saying goodbye when he hung up, finding himself taking a few deep breaths in; entirely forgetting that he didn’t need to breathe at all. 

When Dipper called Toby down for dinner that same evening, he watched as Toby grabbed the glass of violently red fruit punch and licked his lips, “Mmm I love blood.” He drank it until it stained his lips and teeth. 

Dipper sucked in a breath and set the grilled cheese sandwich and carrot sticks down on the table. “We don’t play Bael at the table, okay? Also, vampires are the ones who drink blood.” Not that demons were opposed to it. They’d consume just about anything. 

Toby didn’t take much mind to Dipper’s instructions. “No one tells Bael what to do,” he said with a slick grin peeled between his reddish lips. He pushed the plate away, “Bael doesn’t eat vegetables!” 

“Toby, I said you can play your game after dinner,” Dipper said, pushing the plate back. “And you like carrots. You need to eat them.” 

“Fine,” Toby grumbled, taking a bite out of a carrot stick. 

“I was thinking,” Dipper continued, not paying much attention to his own dinner. He wasn’t hungry and he didn’t need to eat. “That since you liked this show so much, you might like some others. There was this really cool show called _Tiger Fist_ I used to like. I used to watch it with my best friend Soos. Or _Ductective_ , that was always my sister’s favorite.”

Toby spoke while chewing, crumbs falling from his mouth. “No, I like my show.” 

Biting down on his thumbnail, Dipper sat in thought for a moment. “Does your show feel familiar to you? Does it maybe remind you of,” he paused, “never mind. Just eat your dinner.” He didn’t say anything else. 

\------ 

Hours later, after dinner was finished, Toby tugged on the sleeve of Dipper’s red-checkered, flannel shirt. Initially, he had run off to play racecars in his room, and Dipper falsely believed Toby had temporarily dropped interest in _Mizar the Magnificent_. He thought for a moment that maybe the phase was over and he could relax. 

“Daddy, will you play Mizar the Magnetent with me now?” In any other context, Dipper would have found Toby’s inability to pronounce difficult words charming. 

He shook his head, turning to the next page of his mystery novel (he already knew that it was the minature horse enthusiast who committed the murder, but he was invested in the story anyway). “Not right now,” he replied, reaching out with one hand to pat Toby on the head. “Why don’t you pick out a book and read with me?” 

“But you said after dinner,” Toby complained. He gripped Dipper's hand and tried to pull him off the couch. “Come on! You can be Alcor and I can be Bael. We’ll shoot our cool fire magic. Like,” he dropped Dipper’s hand and held out his own as if he were conjuring a spell. “Pew! Pew! Woosh!” 

“Kiddo, I’m not really in the mood to play.” 

Again, he pulled on Dipper’s hand; sinking his heels into the carpet and yanking as hard as he could, as if in a tug-of-war. Toby had never been so demanding before. “Come on, it’s easy! I’ll show you!”

“Toby, I--” he never finished his sentence because Toby leapt onto his chest and knocked him down, or more so, he made the decision to fall over in order to cushion Toby’s landing. The mystery novel slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground, pages folding in on themselves. He looked up, the light refracting off of Toby’s blonde hair and the shadows obscuring one of his deep hazel eyes. 

Toby pressed both hands and knees deep into Dipper’s chest, as if trying to pin him down. A laugh escaped from him, low and maniacal. The curve of his smile revealed too many teeth. “I’m back, Alcor,” he said, voice more forceful and articulate than he had ever managed before, as if he spoke with more purpose. His face came closer, forehead nearly touching Dipper’s, “And I will destroy everything you love.” 

Looking up into the innocent but damning smile of his child, Dipper suddenly felt something not right in his chest. It tugged at his insides that didn’t exist, the absence of lungs or a heart. He found himself gasping for breath, not because he needed to breath but because he needed something to fill the concave in his chest. 

He couldn’t stop looking at Toby, one of his eyes covered by the shadow of his hair. Pulling away, the grin slipped from Toby’s face and the shadows were cast away from his face. “Daddy?” 

Burying the side of his face into the couch cushion, Dipper closed his eyes, feeling the glamor pull away to reveal the black and gold that lay underneath. “Leave him alone,” he muttered, voice muffled and unclear. He tried to suck in another breath but it did him no good. There was nowhere for the air to go. Only then did he notice the faint tremble in his arms, how he clenched his hands so hard that claws popped out and dug crescents into his palms, now ripe with shimmering gold blood. He was resisting the urge to fight back. 

“Oh no! Daddy! Are you scared?” Toby asked, now gently shaking at his father’s shoulders, trying to get him to snap free. “I was only playing! It’s not real. It’s just me.” 

As much as Dipper wanted to believe that, he couldn’t. He wanted to believe that Toby wasn’t Bill. But now, he could see the truth for what it was. 

“Toby, go to your room,” he choked out the words, one by one. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Please. Go to your r̴o̷o̸m̸.” The snap in his voice echoed subtly through the living room. Toby backed away cautiously, too afraid to stay but too afraid to go. “G̸o̷!̵” Suddenly afraid, Toby promptly ran up to his room. Dipper was grateful to have his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see the look of fear on Toby’s face that he had caused.

The moment he heard Toby’s bedroom door close, Dipper opened his eyes to realize they were slick with gilded tears. He tried to force himself to sit up right or even float, but realized he felt too paralyzed to even try. “Haven’t you taken enough from me?” he declared with a forceful spit into the emptiness of the room. With a sigh, Dipper folded his hands against his face. “I don’t know what to do.” 

\------ 

The door hinge gave an uncomfortable squeak in the silence. “Toby?” There was a lump on the bed, face exposed within a lump of blankets. Whenever he felt scared, Toby would build himself a nest of blankets and crawl inside. He whimpered and buried his face into the blanket pile when he saw his father. Pausing, Dipper lingered in the doorway. “It’s okay. Everything is… everything is alright.” 

It was a lie. Everything he said nowadays was a lie. He could only hope that his lies would be enough to protect Toby for a little while longer. Because after 12 minutes of sitting alone in the silence, Dipper realized everything was not alright, and he was completely helpless against whatever Bill was planning. 

A little face with big hazel eyes poked back through the blanket. “What happened? Why were you scared? I was just playing.” 

“I know you were. But I,” he processed about 10,000 different thoughts at the same time and still couldn’t find the right words to say. “Can I sit down by you?” With a nod, Toby moved over on the bed, allowing Dipper to sit by his side. Shedding some of his blankets, Toby crawled into Dipper’s lap, resting his head right over where Dipper’s heart should have been beating. “There’s so much I want to tell you… but I’m worried it will hurt you.” 

For a moment, Dipper tried to gather himself, running his fingers through Toby’s hair. There was nothing he could do to defeat the hollow sinking feeling in his chest. “Do you remember how I fight demons? For my job?” Toby gave an attentive nod. “Well, a long time ago I fought a really scary demon. He was a lot like Bael, from your show. Like in that episode where he makes the world all weird and scary? It was a lot like that.” 

“Did the demon hurt you?” Toby whispered. 

“He did. Really bad.” He continued to affectionately string his fingers through Toby’s hair, pushing it back to reveal both his eyes. 

“What happened?”

“It’s hard for me to talk about. But he was a bad demon who wanted to hurt people. And when I helped stop him, he got mad and hurt me back with magic.” 

“Are you all better now?” 

“No. Not really.” 

Toby thought about this for a moment. “Did you win your fight?” 

Closing his eyes, Dipper clutched to the blanket wrapped six-year-old in his lap. “I don’t know yet. You see this demon, he wants to come back, and he wants to hurt the people I love. Your show reminds me of this and it makes me scared. I’m scared something will happen to you. Because you’re...” he stopped himself, the truth bitter against the tip of his tongue. “You’re the most important thing in my life.” 

Still focusing on Toby, Dipper directed all of his thoughts and attention to the tiny fingers creeping out of the blanket, rosy cheeks, and the gaze of innocent hazel eyes. “I’m not scared,” Toby whispered. “You’re like Alcor. You fight the bad guys and you always win. That’s your job. And Bael has lots of weaknesses. I know you can stop him.” 

Dipper chuckled to himself. “You’ll have to remind me of Bael’s weaknesses.” 

Toby counted on his fingers, “Uhmm… kittens for fists, bad music, stabbing his eye… and love.” 

“Love?” 

“Yes. They stop Bael because they love each other.” 

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Dipper said, dragging a finger against the side of Toby’s cheek. The soft curls of his smile played at his mouth. “I guess it’s a good thing that I love you so much then. It means I can keep you safe. But,” his smile became more playful. “I think you may have forgotten one of Bael’s weaknesses,” Dipper said with a knowing smirk. Toby raised an eyebrow, confused. Raising one hand, Dipper slowly tackled Toby’s side. “Tickles!” Rolling onto the bed, Toby kicked and squirmed as Dipper tickled at his ribs and tummy. He squealed with laughter, trying to escape his father’s grasp. 

There definitely was something waking up inside Toby. Something dark that tried to crack at his skin and break free. But there was also some truth to what he said, some old and forgotten memories. It was never magic that stopped Bill. Maybe there was still a chance that he could save Toby, that love would be enough force Bill back under. He had no choice but to believe it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has gone through some changes. There’s a lot of different things happening here but believe me, they’re all part of the plan.


	7. 7 Years of Bad Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Toby's 7th birthday approaches, he hits a bout of bad luck

Join us for a Dino-mite* party for: Toby Pines 

Where: 831 Old Willow Street 

When: 2 pm, Saturday May 6th 

_*Please note that the invitation in question has several inaccurately bipedal dinosaurs wearing cone hats, eating cake, and holding balloons_

  
  


8:00 am, May 1st: 

Toby went to school that Monday with something very sacred in his backpack. Every now and again, he felt compelled to zip open the pocket and peek inside to make sure it was still there. That following Saturday was Toby’s 7th birthday-- but more importantly, it was the first time his father was allowing him to have a party. Until this point, Toby had not been allowed to invite friends over or even to go on a playdate at someone else’s home. 

Everytime he asked why such a normal behavior was forbidden his father would respond: “It’s complicated.” 

To which Toby would reply, everytime without fail: “But you always say that! That’s what you say when you have a secret!” And it was true. His father did have many secrets. 

And then Dipper would sigh, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck, and then get down on one knee to be at Toby’s level. “I’m just worried about you. Maybe I will be able to tell you when you’re older,” he would say. Toby didn’t understand what there was to be worried about or why he had to be older to understand it. 

But today was finally the day. Toby was allowed to have his first grade class over for a birthday party. Over the weekend his Dad took him to the store to pick out invitations, decorations, and a cake. Toby could barely contain his excitement, hands jittering with glee.

Walking into the classroom, he walked up to the teacher’s desk and slipped the backpack off of her shoulders. “Ms. Daley, can I--”

Another student cut him off. “Ms. Daley! Can I pass out my birthday party invitations before class starts?” Beside him was Trent, snobbish with his missing-tooth grin. 

“Me too,” Toby added quickly. “I’m having a party too.” 

Ms. Daley smiled, “Of course, you both can. Be quick.” 

With a nod, Toby and Trent held onto the backpacks and dug out handfuls of invitations. Toby looked over at Trent. “Your birthday was two weeks ago. We sang the birthday song in class.” 

“My moms told me I had to wait to have my party,” Trent said. “I’m having it on Saturday.” 

“But my birthday _is_ on Saturday!” Toby complained. “Can you please change it? This is my first party.” 

Trent scoffed. “No way. My birthday was before yours so I get to have my party first.” Taking his handful of cards he set each one down on every desk he passed, each one nicely placed in a fire engine red envelope. 

Red-faced and flustered, Toby did the same, trying to make sure his dinosaur-themed birthday cards were placed on top of Trent’s. “Please,” Toby begged again. “My Dad never lets me have parties.” 

“I always have cool parties,” Trent slapped an invitation down on Jake's desk, one of the quieter kids in class who spent a lot of time fiddling with his glasses. “Mine will be better.” 

“My party will be cool!” Toby said, also adding an invitation to Jake’s desk. 

With a shrug, Trent finished off the invitations, Addie, Casey, and Gigi, until there was only one left in his hand. “Everyone will go to my party because it will be cooler.” 

Toby looked down, he only had one invitation left. His Dad’s instructions were clear, he had to invite all of his classmates. So he huffed out a sigh and handed the last dinosaur-themed invitation to Trent. Taking the invitation, Trent dropped it into his open backpack. Trent looked at his last remaining red-envelope invitation and crushed it, leaving Toby empty handed. 

  
  
  


2:47 pm, May 1st: 

When Dipper came to pick Toby up from school that afternoon, he was surprised to see his son dragging his backpack limply behind him, head of golden hair hung low. He leaned against the frame of his car, listening to the sound of canvas scratching against gravel. “Everything okay, kiddo?” he asked as Toby approached the car. 

“No,” Toby sighed. 

Dipper wiped a hand against the side of his pants, making sure that he had all the blood, demonic ash, and other potential fluids were clear from his skin. Then he placed the hand on Toby’s shoulder, giving an affectionate squeeze. “What’s wrong?” 

Toby kicked a foot against the crumbs of black gravel, his novelty sneakers lighting up electric green at the heel (Dipper was excited to learn that light up shoes never went out of fashion). “Trent is having his birthday party on the same day as me.” 

“The little snot nosed kid who picks on you?” 

“Yeah, his birthday was two weeks ago!” Toby huffed again, now stamping his foot on the ground. “And now no one will come to my party.” 

Dipper said, “Well… maybe we can move your birthday party and you can go have fun at Trent’s party this weekend. We can steal all the fun ideas from Trent’s party and do it better in yours.” He winked, “Maybe he’ll be jealous.” 

Toby mumbled something under his breath. 

Dipper raised an eyebrow, “What was that?” 

He huffed and spoke more clearly. “I can’t. He crushed my invitation so I couldn’t be invited. Even though I gave him mine.” 

“Seriously? That little jerk,” Dipper muttered to himself. “I’m still trying to figure out how a 7 year old could be so mean. I wanna know just what’s happening in that kid’s head.” Toby sniffled, and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. His soft eyes were growing red and glassy. “Awww, don’t cry,” Dipper said, kneeling down to be on Toby’s level. He felt a compulsive twitch in his fingers, a hunger rise up in the back of his mind. “It will all work out, Toby. I’ll make sure you get to have your party on your birthday. I promise.” 

“Really?” There was a hopeful gaze in Toby’s hazel eyes. 

“Yes. But I’ll need something from you first.” Raising an eyebrow, Dipper tapped a finger knowingly against his cheek and let a mischievous smile play at his mouth. 

Perking up, Toby came in close, wrapped both arms around Dipper’s neck, and kissed him once on the cheek. “Magic kiss! Now anything is possible!” Toby exclaimed.  
Of course, the kiss wasn’t actually magic. Being an almost-7-year-old, Toby didn’t have much to trade away in deals (not to mention, Dipper never wanted Toby to find that he was actually making deals with a demon his whole childhood). Magic was finicky like that. Dipper sometimes didn’t have the energy for complicated magic, and would need Toby to offer something in return to ensure his child had all of his physical and emotional needs met. 

But then there were moments such as this one, when all he wanted to do was make Toby happy, no matter the deal. 

Sometimes he could be clever about it, asking Toby to grab him something from the pantry before making a deal, or saying that Toby had to share a bit of his dessert if he wanted a favor from his father. But most of the time, Dipper made deals for emotional energy: hugs, kisses, and high fives, sometimes he’d ask Toby to tell him about a good memory from the day. At the moment of contact when the deal was sealed, Dipper would pull back so Toby wouldn’t feel the charge of magic between them like a rush of static off an old TV set or the feeling of your leg falling asleep. 

“So how are you gonna make sure I have my party?” Toby asked. 

Dipper shrugged, “I’m gonna handle it like an adult and be very polite.” 

That was a lie.

Dipper did not handle it like an adult. He handled it like a demon. 

  
  
  
  


**Sworn in Statement of Proof of Loss**

Policy Number: 6152012 

Name: Zerbronksi, Pamela & Jaskia 

Address: 118 Benson Road, Vancouver, South Washington 

To the Umbrella Insurance Company. 

TIME AND ORIGIN: Structural damage to the in-house MagiTech system, and roof dislocation occurred about the hour of 2 o’clock AM, on the day of May 2nd, 3564. The cause of origin of said loss was deemed demonic in nature by the Vancouver Demonology Department (VDD) and Demonologist Corp Representative (DCR) Tyrone Pines. The demonic entity in question and motivation is currently unknown. 

OCCUPANCY: The building described was occupied at the time of the loss as follows: Pamela Zebronski, Jasika Zebronksi, and Trent Zebronksi. 

_Tyrone Pines would like to note that the demon in question was likely very powerful and angered by an occupant of the building, probably for a very, very good reason. Best to not question such a demon’s judgement. He would also like to say that the slogan “We have you covered” is the cheesiest possible option for an Insurance Company called ‘Umbrella”. And your mascot of a little umbrella wearing sunglasses and smiling makes no sense. It’s obviously raining. Why would the umbrella need sunglasses?_

  
  
  
  


12:17 pm, May 2nd: 

Trent leaned over the lunch table, waving his arms to explain the fantastical event that had become his household the night prior. “A demon took the roof off my house last night!” he shouted. “I woke up and it was like _woosh!_ ”

“Woah,” said a girl, who was missing her 2 front teeth and spoke with a peculiar whistle. “Why?” 

Trent shrugged, “Dunno. But some really cool demonologists came to my house before I left for school.” 

Pressed into the corner of the other first grade lunch table, Toby took a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, having been listening with high interest and purpose. “Which demon?” he asked. He had become someone preoccupied with demons in the recent; his favorite cartoon Mizar the Magnificent and wanting to learn more about his father’s history with demons left him in a position of growing curiosity. 

Trent gave Toby a smug smile, “Probably a really, really big one.” 

“Like Alcor!” Toby asked. “He’s one of my favorites.” 

Trent scoffed, “No way! Alcor evil and eats souls. There’s no way he’d take a roof off a house. He’s a terrible demon. You should pick a new one, like Kryptos.” 

With a huff, Toby took another bite out of his sandwich, the peanut butter gluing itself to the roof of his mouth. He knew Alcor was bad, but he refused to believe he was _evil._ Why would they make the world’s greatest cartoon about an evil demon? 

Another boy tapped Trent on the arm. “And what about your birthday party?” 

Trent sighed, “My moms said I might have to wait again until the house is fixed.” 

Toby perked up again and snickered to himself, a near devilish smile pulling at his cherubic cheeks. The magic had worked! Now everyone would have no choice but to come to his birthday party instead. And Trent would finally get a taste of his own medicine. 

2:57, May 2nd: 

“It worked!” Toby shouted, plowing towards Dipper at full speed in the mostly empty school parking lot. He wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist. “Trent’s house was destroyed by a demon.”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper said, trying not to let a knowing smile crack through his teeth, but also not going so far as to chastise Toby for being excited about a demon attack. Petty revenge felt good. Now he understood why parents loved to fight at PTA meetings. 

Nuzzling his face further into Dipper’s side, Toby nodded. “Mhm! The magic worked! You fixed it.” 

A nervous chuckle escaped him, “You think I destroyed their house?” Had Toby started to figure it out? That was impossible; he was so careful. If Toby had figured it out, he would have known by now. Unless… Bill had somehow told him. 

“No,” Toby said with a laugh, amused by the idea that his mild mannered father would be capable of such a dramatic feat. “I think Alcor did it. You’ve talked to him before! So you must have asked him to do it.” 

“What? No,” Dipper replied, voice starting to squeak as he spoke too fast. “That’s ridiculous. Demons are evil. And Alcor is very evil. There’s no way I would… that was just a one time thing with the talking. There is nothing between me and Alcor. I sometimes even forget who he is. That’s crazy talk.” 

Toby laughed. “You’re talking funny.”

He cleared his throat and tried to deepen his voice, “No. I’m not.” Patting Toby on the shoulder, he gestured towards the car. “Let’s go home.”

  
  


May 3rd: 

Toby waited. 

May 4th: 

Toby waited. 

May 5th: 

Toby waited. 

  
  


1:45, May 6th: 

“Come on, Dad!” Toby said, tugging at the back of his Dad’s shirt. “It’s almost time! Everything has to be perfect.” 

Dipper chuckled under his breath, making sure the last of the electric green streamers Toby had chosen were hung in perfectly parallel lines across the ceiling. It was the sort of task he would have preferred to do with magic, doing it the human way with a ladder and tape just seemed tedious and ridiculous (given that he would have to take it down in a few days, anyway). But he couldn’t get an overly excited Toby to leave him alone for longer than a minute in order to do any magic. 

“Relax,” he assured, stepping off the last rung of the ladder. “I was a twin, which means I am a birthday expert.” Kneeling down, he bopped a finger off of Toby’s nose. “We’ve got decorations, pizza flavored cake and cake flavored pizza,” he rambled. 

“Dad!” Toby exclaimed. “That’s not funny.” He said that despite laughing. 

“Oh that’s right.” Dipper comedically slapped a palm to his forehead, “You wanted your cake to taste like cake and your pizza to taste like pizza.” 

“You’re weird.” 

“I am. Just a little.” He ruffled a hand against Toby’s head. “But don’t worry, everything is going to be fine.” 

  
  


2:00, May 6th: 

Toby waited by the front door with his face pressed against the window, his breath steaming against the glass. Goosebumps rose on the back of his arms with anticipation. His favorite blue t-shirt with the shark pattern on it rose up around his midsection as he reaches up on his toes in an attempt to keep looking out the window.

  
  


2:15, May 6th: 

Toby waited on the couch, sprawled out on his back. Kick his legs up in the air. His father came by, dragging a warm and affectionate hand across his hair. “Be patient,” he encouraged. Sometimes his father would get a look on his face, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as if trying to see something far away. “There’s still a 37% chance someone is coming.” 

“Okay,” Toby replied, still kicking. “I’m patient!” 

  
  


2:30, May 6th: 

Toby waited, now limpy laying on the couch. The bright white lights burned his eyes but he refused to look away. 

  
  


2:45, May 6th: 

Dipper cautiously sat down next to Toby, nudging him aside on the couch. The house was painfully empty, not even populated with the sound of the ventilation system, the hum of electricity winding through the walls, or the creak of wooden floors. A thick and dark aura hung over the air, like a storm cloud or an ink stain in water. It churned like an angry sea, wrapping itself around Toby. A thick, black, and demonic karma. 

It was as if the universe wanted to punish him, as it had tried to punish Ian. Toby’s life had been nothing but 7 years of bad luck. Left at an orphanage. The target and sole survivor of a demon attack. Raised by his worst enemy. Teased, taunted, and now abandoned by his classmates. 

Dipper found himself wondering if he had done the right thing, or by raising the child he simply prolonged his suffering. “Toby,” he whispered. 

The tears bubbled up and bursted from Toby’s hazel eyes, smearing down his face. His back shuddered as Dipper tried to reach out a comforting hand. Toby grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and buried his face in it, in an attempt to hide his face and the sobs that came. “They were supposed to come to my party! Trent’s got ruined!” 

“Hey, come here,” Dipper said, scooping Toby up from the couch in one arm. He didn’t know what else to do beyond try to comfort him. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. This is just… some really bad luck.” 

“You said you would fix it!” he cried, tears staining Dipper’s t-shirt. “We did the magic! Why didn’t it work? It always works.” 

“I did. I--” 

The information hit him all at once. 

(Upon realizing the destruction of their home by an angry and unknown demon, Pamela and Jasika felt bad for their son Trent. So they announced to everyone who RSVPed that their son’s party had been moved to a nearby children's arcade. Which you never did. Because Toby never got an invitation.) (Had you handled it like an adult and called them, they would have happily suggested a joint birthday party.)  
(You fucked up.) 

Dipper sucked in a breath. He had been so careless, so confident in his revenge that he, the most feared demon in the world, didn’t think ahead. He could feel the deal breaking, the small bit of power leaking from him. “I handled it like a demon.” 

“You what?” 

He shook his head. “I tried to fix it, but what I did, it didn’t work. I’m so sorry, Toby. This is my fault.” 

He gripped the ends of his fingers around Dipper’s shirt and tried to push him away, rather unsuccessfully. “You promised!” A screech of rage filled his voice. 

He swallowed. “I know. I broke a deal.” He felt suddenly very tired. “I lied. I’m no birthday expert. I’ve had lots of crummy birthdays too,” Dipper said, affectionately combing a hand through Toby’s hair. “And now I’ve let yours turn out to be pretty bad too.” 

Toby sucked in a deep breath, the anger starting to loosen in his chest. “What happened during your birthdays?” he asked, face still nuzzled into his shoulder. 

“Well, when I was 10. My parents said my twin sister Mabel and I could have separate birthday parties for the first time. She had hers on a Saturday and all of her friends came and I had mine the next Sunday and nobody came. I cried all day and I didn’t go to school that Monday because I was so sad and angry. But at least I had Mabel to cheer me up.” He sighed through his nose, “And after my sisters died, all of my birthdays were pretty bad. Because I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with.” Dipper paused a moment in thought, haunted by the birthdays that had passed him by for centuries. “But you have me. And I know I’m not enough. You should be with friends and I was wrong to wait so long to let you play with the other kids.” 

“The other kids are jerks,” Toby sniffled. “I don’t want to play with them anymore.” His cheeks were hellfire red, his hazel eyes glazed over with tears and fury. “I hate them! I hate them so much!” He balled his hand into a fist, slamming it against Dipper’s shoulder in a fit of anger and desperation. “Why are they mean to me?” 

And Dipper let it happen. He couldn’t think of anything else to do other than to let Toby hurt with several lifetimes of rage and bad luck. 

“Trust me kiddo,” he muttered. “If they knew you like I did, they wouldn’t do anything mean to you ever again.” 

\--End of Year 1--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psssstttt. Click the 'next work' button to read about my Mizar addition Fang and her newest fic if you haven't already.  
> Why yes this is a shameless plug. 
> 
> But seriously thanks for reading my lil ole Toby fic. Stay tuned for more chapters of making a perfect baby cry.


	8. Dog Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Toby wants a dog.

“Dad?” Toby looked up from his plate, “Can we get a dog?” 

Dipper had to remind himself not to choke on his food in surprise.“A dog? Where’s this coming from?” He coughed, remembering that it was physically impossible for him to choke.

Toby shrugged and dug the prongs of his fork into his spaghetti. “Other kids have pets,” he muttered under his breath. It was summer time now, meaning Toby spent a fair amount of time playing by himself and watching as the other kids in the neighborhood played in the street and, yes, took their dogs for walks.

“Uhhh. I don’t know,” Dipper rubbed at the back of his neck, an old habit that never went away. “Dogs are a lot of responsibility and animals don’t like me very much.”

Animals had a pretty keen sense for the demonic, dogs growled and cats hissed in his presence. Birds attacked him. And pigs, well, any pig that wasn’t distantly related to Waddles would charge at him. As for occult creatures like teacup griffins or pixies, they had a fearful and cautious respect that wasn’t suitable for pets. Keeping a dog in the house would surely mean that it would bark at him consistently or become so terrified it wouldn’t serve much purpose in the way of a pet. 

“Pretty please.” Toby’s eyes got big and his bottom lip quivered. Dipper hated that look, it was hard to resist. “I promise I’ll feed it and give it a bath. I just want someone to play with.” 

He sighed. Ever since the birthday incident, Dipper felt guilty anytime he had to deny Toby something because he was a demon pretending to be a human. He often considered coming clean and telling Toby the truth about himself. After all, Toby was 7 now, and far more capable of keeping secrets from his peers (not to mention Dipper could easily put a secret-keeping charm on him). But he still wasn’t prepared to tell Toby about Bill, or Kryptos’s gang hunting them both down. 

Dipper knew what it was like to wake up and realize exactly who you are -- and what you have done. He’d done it himself after living with Belle and Lionel for 12 years. That feeling stuck with him, something sticky in the back of his mind. He kept wanting to go back under and forget all of this was happening. He didn’t want Toby to feel that yearning to forget. The cold shudder that came with being afraid of yourself. 

But he also couldn’t keep lying much longer.

“I will think about it,” he said. “But you’ll have to prove to me you can handle this. Clean room, chores done on time.” 

“I promise I will!” 

“Alright.” He replied. Then he sighed, and reached across the table and wiped some of the spaghetti sauce from Toby’s face with his thumb. “You know I want you to be happy, right?” 

“Yes,” Toby replied, though he did so with little enthusiasm and understanding. And obviously he didn’t understand. Dipper kept choosing to lie to him over and over again.  
He nodded. “Okay… I’ll look into getting you a pet.”

\--------

The mindscape had a very particular smell. It was like walking down the freezer aisle of a grocery store; like stale cardboard and cold air rushing through your lungs. The sky was like a blue mirage, perfectly clear and devoid of clouds and yet impossible to hold focus on for too long. 

The nightmares hung around in a clump on the grass, aimlessly going about their business. Delirium pranced giddily throughout the field, bypassing Massacre’s angry glare and the blood that dribbled from its skeletal mouth. A small speck could be viewed beyond the flock-- likely Isolation, hiding away as usual. 

_“Look who has finally come to say hello.”_ A fuzzy lump of galaxy wool rolled over in the electric green grass. _“After all this time you finally drop in. And let me guess, you have some obnoxious task you want help with.”_ Acrimony chewed casually on a figment, the loose tendril of imagination hanging limply from its lips. 

Dipper crossed his arms in a defiant huff. He tried not to feel guilty for abandoning the nightmares after adopting Toby (and his various other attempts at feigning forgotten humanity). Despite being a demon, parenthood required a lot of juggling, and he found that he didn’t have a lot of time for the nightmares-- especially since he was dedicating so much time to Toby’s safety. Just leaving Toby home alone, asleep in bed, for 10 minutes was making him nervous.  
But the nightmares would just have to deal with the fact that he was going to be busy for a while. 

“My son wants a dog.” Dipper declared. 

Acrimony rolled its beady eyes and flopped down in the grass. _“And how is that our problem?”_

 _“A son!”_ exclaimed Delirium, charging full speed towards him and bouncing up and down on its hooves. _“Congratulations, Master! We never thought such a thing would be possible; you seem far too unstable for parenthood.”_

“Hey! I’m stable!” He paused. “Sometimes.” 

_“Tell us about the child! Where did it come from?”_ Delirium asked, cocking its head to the side and narrowing its beady eyes.

“Well, uh, Toby is adopted. I rescued him from a demon attack a few years ago.” And then he spoke quickly under his breath, “Andhe’salsothereincarnationofBill.” 

_“What was that?”_ asked Delirium. 

_“Ignore him. Everything he says is a waste of time,”_ grumbled Acrimony. 

Dipper sighed through his nose and muttered in a low, but articulate voice. “Toby is also the reincarnation of Bill Cipher.” He winced, prepared for the backlash, eyes closed and wings scrunched up against his back. 

_“Oh no. He’s done it now. The master is absolutely out of his mind,”_ said Delirium with a grin. _“He must be insane!"_

Acrimony bore its teeth in anger, mouth like a steel bear trap. _“And you came here to force us into helping with your delirious plan, didn’t you! Well, you can count me out. What if Bill comes back. Hmm? Like your pal Ian? I, for one, refuse to be eaten by Bill Cipher.”_

A low and thunderous growl sailed across the field, _“Why didn’t you kill it?”_ snarled Massacre, between sharp and hungry teeth. _“Extract your vengeance and his organs!”_

“Enough! All of you!” Dipper commanded, causing all the nightmares in the flock to go still and raise their heads with attention. “I don’t want to hear it!” Then he relaxed, shoulders loosening and wings falling so the edges hit the soft grass. “Killing Toby won’t help me. He’s just a kid, but a kid in danger. Bill is trying to come back and I am worried about it. The only thing stopping Bill is me. I have to help Toby and I can’t do it by myself. Maybe a pet would help? You know, help him enjoy life or something?” 

_“A pet!”_ Acrimony cried. _“Now he calls us pets!”_

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Animals hate me! And Toby doesn’t know that I’m… me. I can’t bring home a real dog but I can bring home one of my familiars. Please. I need your help.” 

Delirium gave him a suspicious glance. Strange how these expressionless creatures could emote so well. _“And what is your plan, master?”_

“One of you has to come back to the physical plane with me, I’ll work a little magic and make you look like a dog. Your job would be to take care of Toby. Play with him, curl up with him at night, protect him from harm. That sort of thing. Having one of you around would mean that I don’t have to keep constant vigilance on him. I could leave him and know he’d be safe. Plus,” he shrugged, “if he forgets to feed you it would be no big deal.” 

_“Absolutely not. I refuse to acknowledge you as my master, let alone care for the soul of Bill Cipher,”_ Acrimony spat with distaste. 

“Come on,” Dipper sighed, turning to float beside the nightmares. “Toby is a little kid and I want him to have a playmate. He doesn’t have many friends at school. They’re mean to him all the time.” 

_“Because he’s the reincarnation of evil.”_ Acrimony said again.

“Because he’s shy and awkward! So was I as a kid. And I really think this will help. If we want to lower the chance of Bill coming back, Toby needs to have an appreciation for life. He needs to be happy and loved and that’s what I’m trying to do.” He clapped his hands together and grinned, “So who is coming with me? Another adventure of stopping Bill’s evil plans.” 

Neither Acrimony nor Delirium moved. They looked at each other with little black eyes and a wave of hesitation. _“I don’t know,”_ Delirium said. _“It seems risky.”_

 _“Can I slaughter him where he stands?”_ Massacre asked, blood pouring from its jaw with each word. 

“Come on,” Dipper begged. “I need your help. Don’t make me start barking orders at you.” 

_“I will help you, Master.”_ Isolation peeled into Dipper’s line of sight, walking with its head down from the opposite side of the field. _“You said the child doesn’t have many friends. That reminds me of you. Constantly driven away and hiding because of things you don’t understand. Lonely and sad.”_

“Well, that builds my confidence,” Dipper muttered sarcastically. 

Isolation nudged at his hand with the tip of its nose. Dipper knelt down beside it, curling his fingers across Isolation’s head. It was always a strange little nightmare, shy and withdrawn. There was nothing abnormal or frightening about its appearance-- not like Acrimony’s steel jaw or how Massacre dripped blood. _“Loneliness has eaten away at your soul. But the child makes you happy, I can see that. By protecting the child I am protecting you.”_

Dipper smiled, rubbing affectionately at the nightmare’s head. _“_ Thank you.” He stood up and gestured for Isolation to follow at his heel. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do before Toby wakes up.” The nightmare trotted behind, stumpy tail swishing back and forth with a happy obedience. 

Massacre grinned at Isolation, the red pierce of its empty eyes containing a delighted terror. _“Something wicked your way comes.”_  
  
Isolation tucked its head low and followed Dipper through the swirling dark portal, and into the living room of a completely average suburban house. Isolation paused, now docked of its usual ethereal and sheep-like form and made to look like a golden retriever. It looked at itself in confusion for a moment, paws instead of hooves and a tail instead of swirling galaxy wool. It was an impressive transfiguration, Dipper felt he outdid himself on the extra big eyes and floppy tongue. He leaned forward, hands resting on his knees and tried to relax for a moment. Perhaps he did too good of a job. 

Isolation cocked its head to the side. _“Are you injured?”_

Dipper shook his head and let out a breath. Why was he breathing? He should stop that, it was a waste of time and effort. But it felt nice. “No. I’m fine just… low on magic, I guess.” 

_“That seems unlike you.”_

“I spend a lot of time shapeshifting, trying to stay physical. And I’m not operating under a deal to do any of these things. I’m running on magic reserves and turning you into a dog,” he sucked in another breath. Stupid breathing. “Kinda knocked the wind out of me.” 

_“Are you alright?”_

“I’m an all powerful demon,” he said, the spit in his voice indicating a disdain for his situation. “I’ll be fine.” Finally standing upright, Dipper looked at the nightmare-turned-dog. “Let’s focus on you. Being a dog is easy. You run around, play fetch, go for walks, sleep. He pets you and gives you treats and you lick him. It’s cute.” 

Isolation cocked its head. _“What do I fetch for him? Do I bring him souls or small gnomes?”_

“No. It’s… here.” Dipper snapped his fingers, summoning a tennis ball to materialize out of the air. “If someone throws a ball or toy. You’ll go get it and bring it back. See?” He threw the ball. Isolation did not move. 

_“But if he throws it, why would he want it back?”_

“Because that’s how dogs play! They like chasing things: balls, squirrels, their own tails.” 

_“They sound awfully stupid.”_

Dipper sucked in breath, trying to calm himself down, lest he explode in a scene of demonic fire and fury. “Ignore the fetch thing. Let’s go over basic commands. If Toby tells you to do one of these things, you do them okay? So sit.” 

Isolation did. 

“Lie down.” 

Isolation did. 

“Speak.” 

_“Hello, master.”_

“No,” he groaned. “Dogs don’t actually speak. They bark. No matter what you cannot speak in front of Toby.” 

_“But you told me to speak.”_

“It’s an expression!” he snapped. “It’s like you’ve never seen a dog before!” 

Isolation had not seen a dog before. In fact, Isolation had not seen most things before. _“I do not understand,”_ Isolation replied, the sad puppy-dog eyes working all too well. _“I am meant to be his friend. Wouldn’t talking to him make him less lonely?”_

Dipper let out a reluctant sigh, “Your friendship is more physical okay? Find non-verbal ways to talk. Bop him with your nose, roll onto your back, or lick his hand. We don’t want Toby to know the truth about me or him, or you for that matter. So you can’t say anything.” 

Isolation thought about that for a moment, and then took several steps closer, weaving itself around Dipper’s legs, wagging its tail, and grazing its nose across his fingers. _“Like this?”_

With a chuckle, he scratched the nightmare behind its ears, soft fur caressing his fingers. “Exactly like this.” Isolation perked its ears back and closed its eyes happily. “You’ll like being a part of our family. You won’t have to deal with me disappearing for several years at a time, and Toby will give you lots of love and attention.” 

_“So… if I do what Toby says, who is my master? Him or you?”_

“Him. I mean me… I’m your master. All of this is my command and you will continue to do whatever I say. But Toby is your little master. You are pretending to be a dog for him so that he stays happy, alright?” He ceased to pet the nightmare on the head and drew his hand back. “Here, let’s try something new.” He snapped his finger again, summoning a box of dog treats into his hand. He dug into the box and held out the bone shaped treat to Isolation. “You’ll have to get used to eating these instead of grass or figments of imagination.” 

Isolation cocked its head. _“What is that?”_

“It’s a treat. For dogs.” 

Hesitantly, Isolation took it between its teeth and chomped down, letting crumbs fall from its jaws. Its eyes widened. _“This is food! Real food! Not from the mindscape!”_

“Well, yeah. One of the perks of your job is eating real food. And if you think some dog treat is good, just wait until Toby starts feeding you under the table. Don’t eat all of his vegetables, by the way.” 

_“And Toby,”_ Isolation said. _“Will I like him? Is he good?”_

Dipper smiled faintly, “Very.” 

\------ 

When morning came, Dipper heard the soft pad of Toby’s feet coming down the stairs-- the grogginess of sleep still clinging to the air where Toby walked. 

Dipper looked at Isolation giving a nod that suggested a combination of _you can do this, I believe in you_ and _if you screw this up I will destroy you._ They had practiced for several hours, and it took almost all of that time for an eternal nightmare to understand the concept behind “shake hands” when it did not actually have hands. Dipper was just hoping it was enough. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “I’ve got a little surprise for you.” 

Toby yawned, still in firetruck pajamas, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What is it?” 

Nails tapping against the floor, Isolation ran into the room, wagging its tail and giving a rather convincing bark. Perhaps this plan would work. “This is Iso--I got you a dog!” 

“Really?” Toby dropped to the floor, letting his new pet sniff his hair and lick his face. He laughed in between Isolation’s slobbery puppy kisses. “What’s his name?” 

Huh. He sort of forgot that part. Isolation didn’t seem like a good name for a dog. And Dipper was never any good at naming animals either. “How about you pick?” 

“Hmm…” Toby scrunched up his face and stared thoughtfully at his new pet. “He looks like an Iggy.” 

“Iggy?” 

(Iggy. Short for Italian Greyhound.) (Isolation is a Golden Retriever.) 

(That doesn’t make much sense.)

Dipper rubbed nervously at his neck and hair. “Well uh…” 

Isolation gave him a wide eyed look, _I can be an Iggy. Look at me, I’m a very good Iggy. I like Iggy._ It bounced over to Toby, putting its front paws up on his chest and licking at his cheek. Toby rolled onto his back, letting the nightmare flop against his chest. 

“Iggy sounds like a good name.” 

He giggled before rolling over onto his stomach, and wiggling himself out from underneath Isolation’s body. Then he rushed over and hugged Dipper around the waist. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“I just want you to be happy.” Looking down, Isolation gave him a knowing glance. 

To be honest, Dipper didn’t think Isolation could pull this off. It was always the most quiet of the nightmares. It tended to hide away and make itself invisible as to not be noticed. There was usually something cold about its glance-- a chilling grief that made you feel, well, isolated. Pretending to be a cuddly, outgoing dog didn’t seem to be its forte. 

But it was a perfect match. 

After breakfast Toby changed his clothes and immediately took “Iggy” outside into the backyard to play. It took several hours but Isolation finally learned the concept behind playing fetch, followed up almost immediately by how exciting it was to have Toby try to chase him for the ball. He knew it was a perfect match when he caught Toby feeding Iggy his 5th piece of broccoli under the table; and despite his direct instructions not to eat too many of Toby’s vegetables, Isolation made direct eye contact with him as it took the broccoli between its teeth and swallowed. 

For once, Dipper believed he made the right choice. 

\--------- 

Isolation curled up next to Toby in bed. It was a good first day. They played together in the backyard with the soft and real green grass beneath its feet, and the real sun baking warmly against its back. Reality was nice. Isolation finally understood why demons wanted it so badly. Why they possessed bodies, started apocalypses, fought to the death just for the chance to feel the nice, warm sun. 

Isolation suddenly felt terrible for Dipper; it was no wonder he struggled to be a demon and so desperately returned to his old human ways. Terrible-- what a strange emotion. It had never felt that before. It had never felt most emotions. 

The child was nice too; now lying in bed, sticky with sleep, eyes fluttering open and close. He had pretty eyes. A yellowish hazel that acted as a veneer for something much darker. Toby’s fingers curled into Isolation’s fur, the repetitive petting motion slowing down moment by moment. Isolation breathed out-- breathing was strange too, the swelling of ribs and the taste of bedroom air like fresh sheets and hair. It reached up, and swiped the tip of its tongue against Toby’s forehead. And just like that the child was asleep. Isolation wagged its tail. Dipper did not lie. The child was very good despite his history as the world’s most violent and chaos hungry demon.

“Isolation.” 

It looked upwards to see Dipper standing in the darkness, the piece of his gold eyes glowing and wings outstretched like a shadow. It looked back over to Toby, soft breaths escaping through his mouth. _“Master. The child is here. You must be more careful as to not reveal yourself.”_

“It’s okay,” he replied, moving across the room and crouching down by Toby’s head to pass a hand over the child’s fine yellow hair. “I put Toby to sleep.” 

Isolation cocked its head at Dipper. Despite his youthful face, soft curly hair, and unyielding dark eyes; Isolation could tell he was being chipped away at. _“You look tired.”_

He laughed, very pleasantly. “I am tired, I guess. Like I said, I’m running in magic reserves.” 

_“Not that kind of tired.”_

Dipper paused, obviously registering what Isolation had said, but choosing to ignore it. He cleared his throat. “I need you to stay here and look after Toby while I answer summons; make some deals, try to get my strength back up. I haven’t been able to leave him alone for years, I’ve always been too worried. But with you here I know Toby is safe.”

_“Safe from what?”_

“I don’t know. I just get the feeling we’re being watched. Maybe I’m being too paranoid.” 

Isolation nodded. _“I will protect him anyway.”_

“Good. I’ll be back before morning.” He reached over, scratching Isolation behind the ears. And then he stood up, disappearing into a puff of blue fire. 

As the hours ticked by, it was the first time Isolation ever noticed time. Time didn’t exist in the Mindscape, or at least not in any tangible way. Sometimes it progressed rather quickly, as if falling from an incline. Blink and you wouldn’t even notice it. One time, it was Tuesday for several years which left the nightmares quite unhappy. But this was real, human time. The kind that Isolation could watch tick by on a clock. It was quiet, and dark, and nice. 

Something creaked outside the open bedroom window. 

Toby then rolled over in the bed, a slight whimper escaping from his throat. The sheets and blankets twisted around his midsection as he tossed again, fingers digging into the pillow again. His whimper then turned into a muffled scream. 

Isolation gave the child a nudge with its nose, again, and again; desperately trying to nudge him awake. Toby thrashed in his bed, as Isolation tried to shake him awake. The thing outside the window whispered and chattered in several overlapping and unhinged voices _Soul! Feed!_

Isolation tired to shake Toby awake again, ramming its head into Toby’ arm. _“Little master, you must wake up.”_ Toby’s eyes fluttered open for a brief moment; but instead of a sweet hazel they were a painfully bright yellow. 

Isolation staggered backwards, slipping off the bed and onto the floor. It shook its head and peered back up at the window, the mysterious figure still moving around outside. Whatever that thing was, it was doing something to Toby. Isolation jumped up onto the dresser and scrambled out the open window and onto the ground, thankful for the one-story house. Nightmares were not known to fly-- at least not in dog form. 

The demon outside was massive, its massive and visceral body oozing and rolling across the street. The demon flickered with the immateriality of the Mindscape, which explained why the neighbors hadn’t woken up in a panic. The demon was terrible, like a thousand mouths stitched together. _“Leave my little master alone!”_ Isolation said. _“It’s his bedtime!”_

The demon turned towards Isolation and chattered, _Nightmare! Feed!_

 _“Uh-oh.”_ Isolation said to itself. It braced its paws against the concrete, a snarl escaping from its jaw. Then with a pounce it hurled itself at the demon. One downfall of being an incredibly cute dog was that Isolation didn’t have any of its usual skills: no turning invisible or ramming its massive horns into enemies. But it did have teeth. Charging forward, Isolation sunk its teeth into the demon’s clenching down with all the force of its jaw. 

The demon thrashed around. _Feed! Feed!_ Whipping around, the demon dislodged Isolation, slamming the poor nightmare into the exterior of the home. The demon moved inward, its enormous teeth looming over Isolation. _Feed! Feed!_ Isolation whimpered and curled up beside the house, realizing it had nowhere to go. 

As the demon narrowed inward, there was a flash of blue light. Isolation looked up to see a black suit and pair of outstretched wings. “I thought I told you not to come back!” Dipper snarled, letting a burst of blue fire consume both of his hands. The demon reeled back, afraid, though it was already too late for it to escape as its body went up in flames. It screeched, its several mouths burning and teeth grinding in terror. 

The demon smoked and flickered away, its gelatinous from melting and turning to incorporeal sludge. And then there was nothing left. 

Dipper dropped to the ground beside Isolation, his head hanging low as he sucked in an exhausted breath. “It was the same one," he spoke in a low, aching voice. 

_“The same what?”_ Isolation asked. 

He pulled his knees up to his chest, as if trying to hide. “That Chattering Mouther, it’s the same one from before. When we were attacked at the school. It wasn’t an accident the first time. Kryptos probably sent it to find Toby; Chattering Mouthers good at locating old and powerful souls. If I hadn’t killed it… who knows what would have happened?” 

_“Which is bad?”_  
  
“Very bad. Kryptos is trying to help Bill.” He sucked in another breath, now lifting his head up to face the milky moonlight. With a sigh, his head slunk back down. “Did I make a mistake? By helping Toby. Massacre was right before; if I had killed Toby myself this wouldn’t be happening.” 

Isolation thought about that a moment. It wasn’t usually asked if it had opinions. _“Yes. It was a mistake. His eyes turned bright yellow. Something bad is about to happen. I think you are in danger.”_ Then it nudged its head up against Dipper’s arm and licked him with its slobbery tongue. _“But it was a good mistake. The child makes you happy, even though he poses a threat to you.”_

With careful fingers, Dipper stroked Isolation on the top of its head, claws combing through the golden fur. Isolation expected him to say something, but instead he remained quiet and rose to his, beckoning the nightmare to follow him into the uncanny silence of the house.


	9. Gnome Place Like Gravity Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper takes Toby to Gravity Falls for a camping trip, but the gnomes decide to ruin it for them.

Dipper clicked the button on the controls that turned on the left side turn signal. He often found that he missed teleporting anywhere he wanted and whenever he wanted. Cars had changed so much in the past 1,500 years. They hovered off the ground like in 1960’s science fiction TV cartoons, but were also piloted by a single joystick with a selection of buttons to do most tasks, as if cars weren’t already needlessly complicated. 

The sun glared across his face. And while the sunlight didn’t bother him, he instinctively pulled down the brim of his old pine tree hat– a beaten up relic of a bygone era. 

Toby kicked his legs up and down in his car seat extension. “Where are we going?” He dragged his finger absentmindedly through the holographic art program he was playing with. Isolation lounged on the seat beside him, head propped up on Toby’s lap and tail wagging lazily. 

“I told you we’re going camping,” Dipper replied as he veered the car down onto the dirt path. 

“For how long?” 

“A week. Maybe 2.” 

“Why?” 

“Uhhh well,” Dipper said, realizing he couldn’t think of a good excuse. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “I just thought it would be fun to take a trip somewhere.” 

Truthfully, his intentions were far less innocent. After the chattering Mouther traced Toby back to the house, he knew it was only a matter of time before Kryptos and his gang came by. He had to find somewhere to hide Toby and fast, but he also had to hide himself and make sure his own demonic aura was safely covered up. He had to find someplace magical to hide. And where better to hide than in the forest preserve just outside of Gravity Falls? After all, he was at his strongest here. The magical energy in the area would be just enough to mask his and Toby’s presence— so long as he kept up his human charade. 

“Why?” Toby asked again. 

“I used to go camping with my family every spring break,” Dipper replied with a shrug. “We’d go out to the forest preserve where we’d swim in the lake and cook over an open fire. My sister Mabel and I would share a tent and stay up for hours telling ghost stories. I thought it would be fun to restart the tradition.” 

Toby lowered the MagiOrb, no longer interested in the holographic coloring game. “Why did you stop?” 

“I uhh… I moved in with my Great Uncles. I didn’t see my parents much after that.” 

“Why?” It seemed that Toby was in one of those curious moods where he only seemed to ask questions that Dipper wasn’t keen on answering. He didn’t want to call it annoying, but it was a little annoying. 

With a sigh, Dipper leaned back in the driver’s seat, watching Toby’s expression through the rearview mirror. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s complicated, Tobes.” 

Toby huffed, and crossed his arms. The MagiOrb rolled across his legs from the rumble of the hover-drive and wedged itself in the corner of the carseat. “You always say that.” 

He hated the guilt. He knew the days of lying to Toby would be coming to a close, eventually the truth would come out. But he wanted to lie just a little while longer. “I know I do, but I always mean it. I know you’re curious and that you want to know everything, but there are some things I can’t tell you. My family kept secrets from me too.” 

“What kind of secrets?” 

“Well, my great uncle lied about impersonating my other great uncle for 30 years.” 

“Huh?” 

Dipper laughed to himself, “Like I said, it's complicated.” 

From the back seat, Isolation raised its head from Toby’s leg and gave Dipper a beady eyed stare through the rearview window, as if to say  _ Tell him the truth.  _ Dipper ignored this and pulled the car up to the campsite he preselected. 

The air was ripe with the smell of pine trees and wet dirt. The forest had that still and quiet sound, interrupted only by the brush of wind in the leaves and the chirp of birds. Parking the car, he eagerly popped open the door, feeling the pinprick of old and familiar magic underneath his skin. There were signs plastered into the dirt that read “No Littering”, “Height Altering Crystal Pickers Will Be Prosecuted” and “Crystals Under 24/7 Federal Surveillance”. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend like he was 12-years-old again, the soft push of mud underneath his sneakers and the Journal pressed against his chest from the pocket of his vest. It was a good place to hide out for a while, covered by the thick brush of tree branches and high intensity magic. He just wished he had come back to Gravity Falls under better circumstances. 

Toby slipped his way out of the car behind him, and marched up Dipper’s side with Isolation in tow. He cocked his head at one of the signs, which was made of rough and jagged wood with sloppy black painted letters. He slowly sounded out the words, “Caution: G..nom Territory.” 

“Gnome Territory,” Dipper corrected. “Good job sounding out your words though. Those are pretty tough.” 

“Why do we need to be cautious?” Toby asked again. 

“Gnomes are a little mischievous. They like to break into your house and steal snacks.” Then he shrugged, “But don’t worry. Gnomes aren’t anything to worry about. When I was 12-years-old, some gnomes kidnapped my sister because they wanted her to be their new queen. But we fought them off with a leaf blower.” 

“Woah! Really?”   
Isolation gave him a beast eyed, judgmental stare that made Dipper feel very self conscious. It’s expression seemed to scream (or maybe Dipper was just communicating telepathically with the nightmare), _Are you going to tell how long it's been since you were 12?_ Dipper looked away from Isolation, face a glowing red. 

He cleared his throat. “Yup. There’s nothing to worry about. Those suckers are tiny. So how about we start setting up camp?” 

“I’ll get my backpack!” Toby shouted, dashing back over to the car. Dipper couldn’t help but grin. 

\----- 

Out of all the things that future technology made better, one of Dipper’s favorites had to be camping. They were the type of thing he could have only dreamed of as a kid; despite not having a use for them now. Flashlights that ran on magic so that they never died out, a mosquito repellent that actually worked, tents that could become invisible at the top so you could look up at the stars all night. Though technology wasn’t always on his side. 

He held the remote firestarter in one hand, crouched over the firepit he had constructed in the center of the campsite. The silver box in his hand was supposed to combust and burn with a fake flame at a controlled temperature until being extinguished. You could leave it for days and it would never cause a wildfire. But the box refused to ignite. He grumbled and shook it furiously in one hand, hearing something rattle inside. He groaned and set the ignition box aside, “Seriously?” 

Toby poked his head out of the tent, followed by Isolation, where he was setting up the sleeping bags. “What’s wrong?” 

Dipper shook his head. “Just having a hard time getting our fire started.” 

“I thought you could do fire magic?” 

“What?” He jerked around, feeling fear rise up through his spine and down his arms. “How did you know that?” 

Isolation seemed to grin mischievously, despite having no expression at all. 

“You told my class at the safety demonstration.”

“Oh right,” he replied, letting the tension in his body loosen. “But I also recall telling you it was really dangerous.” 

“Awwww, please! There’s no one here but me and Iggy.” 

He leaned forward again, resting his weight on his toes. “No, Tobes. Ignition boxes are safer than wild magic.” Clicking the button a few more times, a dull orange flame blooming from the tip. Dropping the box into the stone lined circle, the warm fire spread across the forest floor. “See?” 

Toby crossed his arms and grumbled, “Magic fire is cooler.” 

“Yeah but magic fire also makes s’mores taste like gasoline.” Reaching over, he grabbed a bag of marshmallows and a pair of collapsible metal prongs. He sat down on the ground and patted the ground beside him, urging Toby to his side. Toby shifted nervously on the back of his heels. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” 

He scampered up to Dipper’s side and whispered into his ear. “Are you sure gnomes won’t try to steal our s’mores. I thought I heard some talking outside the tent about stealing something! Maybe they want our marshmallows!” 

“What? No way. I’m telling you, the gnomes won’t mess with us.” He pressed a sticky marshmallow into one of the metal prongs and held it out to Toby. 

He stared at the marshmallow in thought. “Mmm, I’m gonna go double check that there are no gnomes. I really want my s’mores to be safe.” Darting off, Toby skirted around the permerimiter of the campsite with a suspicious glare. 

Isolation padded over beside Dipper and laid down on the patch of bare dirt beside the fire. Its dark eyes glanced around the forest.  _ “Are you certain there aren’t any gnomes? Something smells funny.”  _

Dipper shrugged, letting the first marshmallow fall against the fire. “Oh, there are definitely gnomes. But like I said, they’re not much of a threat. I  _ am _ a demon after all. One little scare and that should send them running on those tiny little legs.” He mimicked running with his index and middle fingers. 

Isolation pondered this a moment.  _ “You should really tell him the truth,”  _ Isolation said.  _ “Or at least warm him up to the idea that you’re a demon. Being more relaxed with your magic might help. Toby is a good child.”  _

“Yeah but I don’t want Toby warming up to the idea of demons at all,” Dipper replied, mindlessly roasting his marshmallow until it turned a deep and rigid black. Then he pulled it from the fire, still flaming, and popped the whole thing into his mouth. He knew it was burning, that the skin on the inside of his mouth should be crisping and flaking as his nerve endings fried. But he felt none of that. The marshmallow crunched when he bit down. “Magic could accidentally trigger some of his old memories. You said his eyes turned yellow the other night. Toby doesn’t need any more demon-y stuff in his life.” 

_ “Are you afraid?”  _

Dipper grimaced a few sharp teeth poking from between his lips. “You know I can replace you. Or eat you. I’m starving and this human food can’t sustain me.” 

Isolation whimpered, its tail dropping against the ground.  _ “You are most definitely afraid.”  _

The sound of metal clanging and fabric rustling jolted from behind him as Toby let out a panicked scream. “Dad!” 

“Toby!” Dipper shouted, jumping to his feet. He could hear something squirming and rustling on the forest floor, causing the leaves to crunch. 

As he ran over to the opposite end of the campsite, a tight and adenoidal voice called out. “No, just, hold his arm down, Carl. And lift with your knees, Tim! Your knees!” 

Wait, this all sounded vaguely familiar. 

Realizing what had happened, Dipper came to a halt, the backs of his heels nearly digging into the dirt. A pack of gnomes wriggled their way around each other, passing around the end of a white rope, attempting to tie Toby down. Toby squirmed, trying to pry one of his arms free from the rope. “You guys are jerks! You can’t have my snacks.” 

“Can it short stack,” snapped back, who appeared to be the gnome leader. 

“What the heck is going on here?” Dipper said, unaware of the fact that he said it instead of thinking it. He was having a really serious case of deja vu. 

Isolation nudged its head into Dipper’s leg and whispered, “ _ I told you something smelled funny."  _

The gnomes all stopped what they were doing and spun around to look at Dipper. The gnome leader snapped his fingers, calling forward a few other gnomes to stack on top of each other. He climbed to the top of the gnome stack to be eye to eye with Dipper. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Frank. And that’s Jacob, Kyle, and,” he looked over his shoulder suddenly, pointy, red hat nearly falling off his head. “Hey–has anyone seen Shmebulock the 23rd?” The other gnomes shook their heads and scratched their beards. 

Dipper groaned, “Yeah, yeah. Can we skip to the part where you tell me what you’re doing with my son? Are you planning to make him your new queen or something.” 

“What? No!” Frank said. He pointed graciously at himself. “I am on a mission for Her Majesty to bring her a servant! Someone tall enough to reach the top self at the local convenience store!” 

Rolling his eyes, Dipper took a step closer to Frank, just to remind him that regardless of how well they could stack on top of each other, he was much taller than them and definitely not against drop kicking one of them. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you take Toby.” 

“We’ll see about that. The Queen demands someone tall– but not, like, too tall that we can’t kidnap them. The kid is  _ just _ the right size. So he’s coming with me, whether you like it or not.” Frank called out to the other gnomes, “Let’s wrap this up boys.” 

As the gnomes went back to tying the ropes around Toby’s arms and hoisting him off the ground, he called out nervously. “Uhh, Dad?” 

Dipper was officially done playing around. He’d have to give those gnomes a good scare. He stepped in front of Frank again, this time too close for comfort. “Let him go,” Dipper whispered with a hiss. “I’m not someone you want to mess with.” The glamor peeled off his face, revealing a row of sharp teeth and hollow black eyes. 

“Woah! Okay!” he shouted. The other gnomes gasped, skittering out of the way in a panic that they broke formation and caused Frank to fall to the ground. He tried to scamper out of Dipper’s way, holding an arm up to shield himself. “You’re a demon--” 

“Demonologist,” Dipper said, trying to cover up Frank’s words, while looking over his shoulder at Toby. “You’re definitely right. I am a demonologist and I’m not scared of a little gnome.”

Frank paused, and then glanced between Dipper and Toby; once, twice, thrice in thought. He pinched at his beard with his fingers. “Hang on a second… Does the kid not know?” He gasped, slapping both hands to his cheeks. “Or rather, you don’t want him to know.” Dipper flushed red and hunched his shoulders as Frank rubbed his hands together deviously. “Oh-ho-ho. This is too good. You can’t lay a finger on me without that kid figuring out exactly who you are.” 

“Just because I won’t tear you to shreds right now doesn’t mean I won’t do it later,” Dipper snarled, making sure to flash a few sharp teeth. 

“Now just hold on.  _ Mr. Demonologist _ . I see the potential to strike up a deal here. You do us a favor and we’ll let the kid go without revealing your little secret.” 

Dipper arched an eyebrow at them. “What kind of deal?” 

“Well you see, we wouldn’t have to kidnap the kid if we could be a little bit taller. Stacking on top of each other just isn’t a reliable form of thievery anymore. Plus, it’s just demeaning. We can’t even ride rollercoasters. But it just so happens that Gravity Falls has a natural supply of height altering crystals.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“So you get where we’re going with this?” Frank rolled his open hands around, as if to indicate the progression of thought. “You see, harvesting height altering crystals is illegal– too dangerous for unregulated use or whatever. Despite our renown stealth, even we can’t get past those federal agents surveying the area. But you can. Bring us some height altering crystals and we won’t take the kid as our offering.” 

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Dipper replied. 

“Probably.” Then Frank motioned Dipper to lean down closer and whispered. “But just imagine how the kid will feel when he hears you’re a demon.” 

He considered it a moment. He didn’t want to run the risk of the gnomes telling Toby the truth. That probably wasn’t the best way for Toby to find out. But more importantly, he was trying to hide from Kryptos and the other demons. He didn’t need the gnomes broadcasting where he was. 

“Ugh fine. You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll get your stupid crystals.” He shook Frank’s tiny hand, careful to pull back before the burst of fire could burst from his palm. The familiar snap of magic ran up his arm and into his chest. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Frank replied. 

Pacing over to Toby, Dipper carefully freed him from the ropes, trying not to be too harsh. “Dad, what’s going on? You said the gnomes weren’t a problem?” 

“They aren’t. They’re just… smarter than I thought they were.” 

“I heard that!” Frank yelled. 

Dipper ignored him. “I’m going to go get what they want and I want you to stay here. Iggy will make sure they don’t bother you.” He shared a knowing glance with Isolation. 

“But—” Toby tried to counter. 

“No buts. Just stay out of trouble.” He stood upright and looked over his shoulder, the gnomes starting to rummage through their pre-packed food supply. They munched on the marshmallows, the stringy white mush pooling from their mouths. If he hadn’t made a deal, he’d probably be coming back with a leaf blower. Dipper grumbled and started off towards the east side of the forest. “I’ll be right back.” 

\--------

Getting the crystals was the easiest part. When you can teleport, sneaking in places is not very hard. He peeled around the security guards without being noticed and set off to where the crystals were. 

The nice thing about the forest was that it didn’t change. Well— it did, in the sense that things continued to grow and some other things died. But it was still the forest of his childhood. He could remember walking through, the Journal clenched right between his fingers and the dirt sticking to the bottom of his shoes as he went looking for the crystals the first time. If he closed his eyes, he could relive the memory perfectly. Dipper paused in his tracks for a moment, just to stop and to be one with it for a moment. The forest was ripe with old magic that spoke to the depths of his soul. This was where he first learned the mysteries of the town, where he practiced with his powers for the first time, where he would take Mabel’s children to play. 

The crystals glistened out of the corner of his eye, winks of pink and blue jutting out from the mossy ground. Gigantic flowers blossomed around them as miniature birds flapped around. He only then realized he had been standing there for 15 minutes, with the sun baking against his black suit coat. Nostalgia was a dangerous place to be. Kneeling down, he pulled one of the crystals free from the rock formation, scratching it free with his claws. He gripped it in the palm of his hand. It was smooth like glass and warm from the summer sun. For a moment he considered the temptation to have one for himself. Not to use, but just to have. To try to feel that first summer in Gravity Falls again. 

But instead he turned and teleported back to the campsite. 

When he arrived, secretly emerging from a nearby patch of trees, the gnomes had made a complete mess of the campsite. Bags and cans of non-perishable foods had been emptied and strewn across the ground. They had turned the tent into a nightclub, terrible music and flashing lights pulsing from within. A few gnomes had taken the ignition box from the fire, and were trying to pass it back and forth without burning their hands. 

Toby and Isolation were curled up near the fire, Isolation snarling at nipping at any gnomes who dared get too close. He looked up, hazel eyes wide. “Dad!” He stood up to run towards Dipper, but was cut off in his tracks by the gnomes. 

“Just stay there, Toby. This will only take a minute,” Dipper assured. 

Frank longued across several other gnomes who had gotten down on their hands and knees to create a chair. “Hey, Mr. ‘ _ Demonologist _ ’.” He put air quotes around the word. “Welcome back.” 

Dipper rolled his eyes. He never thought he’d admit to it, but he was starting to miss Jeff– even though he had attempted to kidnap Mabel and briefly worked for Gideon. At least he wasn’t this obnoxious. Digging a hand into his pocket, Dipper pulled out the height altering crystal and tossed it to Frank. “Deals a deal. I’ve got your stupid crystal.” 

Catching it in one hand, Frank studied the crystal. He ran a stubby finger across the edge, squirted at it with one eye, even licked it. With a pleased grin, he snapped his fingers, causing the gnome-chair to disassemble around him into a staircase that he then stepped up to meet Dipper eye to eye. “This checks out.” He tossed the crystal off to another gnome who scampered off towards where some of the other gnomes were still trying to hold on to the ignition box, the fire brightly burning in their tiny hands. 

“Good. Now can you leave me and my son alone?” 

Frank chuckled to himself. “What a sneaky demon you are. That wasn’t the deal.” 

“What do you mean? You said you would let Toby go. So let him go.” 

“Exactly,” Frank replied. “I said I wouldn’t take him as an offering.” Then he grinned, a dark shadow from the pine trees casting across his eyes. “I never said anything about you. I mean, I’ve got a demon wrapped around my finger. Her Majesty would be so pleased if I brought her a height altering crystal and the most feared demon in the world. So how’s about another deal, huh? You come with us and we won’t tell the kid your little secret.” 

Outsmarted by a gnome. Seriously? Well over a thousand years later and Dipper was still shaping up to be a pretty crummy demon. 

He swallowed. “I uhhhh–” He wasn’t going to let some gnome manipulate him. If he could fight off gnomes as a human 12-year-old, he could do it as an adult demon. Finding his resolve Dipper stared Frank in the eye. “You can’t do anything to me. Even masquerading as a human I could drop kick you across this forest. You’re no match for me.” 

Frank stroked his dark beard, mockingly. “Oh yeah, I  _ totally _ hadn’t considered that. Just kidding! I totally considered it!” He gestured to the gnomes who were still trying to hold the ignition box. “Hit it, boys!” 

They hoisted up the ignition box, letting the soft red light pulse from it as another gnome held up the height altering crystal to it. A flash of blue light poured from the crystal, blasting across Frank. Within the light’s beam, he grew to monumental size, towering over Dipper, the top of his hat just barely higher than the trees. 

“So do we have a deal?” Frank asked, voice blasting out across the forest, causing the birds to squawk and fly out of the trees. His red hat blocked out the setting sun. 

“Dad!” Toby called out. He had both arms wrapped around Isolation’s neck. “What’s going on? What does he mean by a deal?” 

“Uhhh… I...” He wasn’t ready to tell Toby the truth. And especially not like this, being outwitted by gnomes of all creatures! But did he really have a choice? For the first time in decades, it felt like he couldn’t think. He could think. In fact he was thinking a million things per second, processing all past and future events. But he couldn’t organize those thoughts into anything meaningful. 

“Someone grab the kid!” Frank shouted. “He can’t be an offering but we’ll need him as leverage!” Then he reached down and grabbed Dipper by the waist, hoisting him into the air. 

Several of the small gnomes tried to grab Toby around the arms and legs. As they got closer Isolation would snatch them up in its sharp teeth and toss them aside. Toby ran towards the center of the campsite. “No! Run away, Toby!” Dipper yelled. But Toby didn’t listen. Instead he swiped the still burning ignition box from the gnomes. He yelped as it burned his fingers, and then he threw it right at Frank. 

Though the contained flame was small in comparison to Frank, it still managed to catch on his clothes, setting the front of his dark blue pants on fire. The fabric smoldered, turning into a black patch and sending smoke spirals up into the air. Taking notice of this, Frank screamed and quickly patted himself off with his free hand. “Ouch! Hot!” Looking down at the ignition box, he grimaced, broke a tree in half and smashed it into the ignition box– like he was putting a cigarette out. 

“Fire,” Dipper muttered to himself. “I can still use fire.” Toby was talking about his fire magic earlier. It was something he didn’t have to hide. 

The smaller gnomes had started to surround Toby, as he gave Dipper a wary look of fear. Frank gave him a menacing smile. He really thought they had Dipper trapped. But Frank forgot exactly who he was messing with. 

He let wafts of blue fire ripple across his hands, growing hotter and hotter with every millisecond. The moment the air started to smell like burning, Frank dropped Dipper and started to swat at the specs of blue flame in his palm. Dipper landed easily on his feet, and shot another arc of fire towards Frank. “Anyone else want some?” he shouted towards the small gnomes, hands still ablaze. He sent another spiral of flames forward, causing the gnomes attempting to surround Toby and Isolation to scamper away. 

Frank roared as he stomped forward, “No! No! No! The Queen must have her offering!” 

One of the gnomes tripped as he ran, dropping the height altering crystal on the ground. Toby rushed over and snatched it up, holding it high over his head so that the gnomes couldn’t reach it. “Dad! I have the magic crystal thingy!” he shouted, backing up as the gnomes started to stack on top of each other. 

“Bring it to me!” Dipper pushed back another bout of fire, letting it rip and roar from his hands. It felt good to use magic to his full capacity again. 

As Frank staggered forward, Toby made his way through the pack of fearful gnomes. Isolation bit and snatched, clearing Toby’s path for him. Eventually he ran up to Dipper’s side, and held up the two toned crystal to him. “Nice work, kiddo,” he said, taking the crystal from between Toby’s fingers. “Now I think it’s time we beat this guy down to size, huh?” Holding the crystal up, he used the light from his flames to send a pink beam directly towards Frank. 

In the bright, rosy light, Frank began to shrink back down to his normal size. “No! How dare you.” Returning Frank to a full 11 inches, Dipper lowered the crystal and let the fire disappear from his hand. He marched up to Frank, who was hollering and stomping in the dirt, and picked him up by the back of his shirt. Frank shrieked and cowered, tucking his legs up to his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you or the kid. I was just messing around! Wasn’t that fun? Aaaa! I’m sorry! Please don’t eat my soul.” 

Dipper scoffed. “Relax. I’m not going to eat your soul. I’ve always had a good relationship with the Gravity Falls gnome society.” Then he leaned in, just enough that Frank could see the glamor peel off his eyes, now dark and haunting. “But just remember to never mess with me again.” He held out the crystal, dropped it to the ground, and smashed it with his foot. “Also, the deal was that I would bring it to you. Not that I would let you keep it.” Then he dropped Frank, falling belly first. 

Pushing himself up, Frank bowed his head several times awkwardly. “Yes. I am so sorry. Never again. I promise.” Then he ran off towards the other gnomes in the woods. 

Dipper snickered to himself. Maybe he wasn’t a totally terrible demon. 

\------ 

“Hold still,” Dipper instructed, as Toby squirmed in his lap amid the wreckage of their campsite. 

“But that hurts!” Toby chirped. The inside of his fingers and palm were cherry red and springing with white blisters from when he picked up the ignition box and threw it at Frank. 

“It won’t hurt in a second. I promise. Can you be brave again for me? You were so brave earlier and I’m so proud of you.” With a whimper, Toby nodded and flexed his fingers out with hesitation. Dipper took a deep breath and focused on the magic that flowed through the Gravity Falls forest. He was at his strongest at home, safely tucked away within his domain. The magic flooded through his cells and the smell of pine trees filled the air. It was warm, like summer, and magnetic in a way. Pressing one hand over Toby’s, he swiped away at the burn mark. What was once red and blistering was now healed. 

Toby pulled his hand away and wiggled his fingers. “Woah! I didn’t know you could do healing magic too!” 

Dipper grinned. “I can do all kinds of magic.” Then he frowned. “But I think I got a little too confident in myself. I should have been more careful. It’s my fault those gnomes tried to steal you.” 

“But it was so cool!” Toby yelled. He popped up onto his knees and began to make wild gestures as he recreated the scene. “That one gnome got really big! And you were all like ‘woosh!’ and I threw the fire box at him! And your fire magic, it’s blue like in  _ Mizar the Magnificent! _ ” He spun around and looped his arms endearingly around Dipper’s neck. “Can I see it again?” 

“I–,” his words caught and his gaze drifted to the broken ignition box in the center of their campground. 

Isolation blinked at him with dark, beady eyes. " _ Well? Are you going to tell him?"  _

Dipper looked down at his hand. He didn’t feel ready for this, and he probably never would be. Isolation was right that the time would come when Toby would have to know the truth. But now didn’t have to be that time. Instead, he needed to start the process in small steps. He owed Toby that much. 

“Sit back down,” he said.

Toby did so, crawling up into his lap so that he could sit with his back against Dipper’s chest. Isolation curled up against the two of them, resting its head against Dipper’s knee and looking upwards with a comforting gaze. Extending a hand in front of them, Dipper let the soft blue flame ripple up between his fingers. It always felt like dunking his hands into lukewarm water; the feeling of silky pressure against his hand where the fire made contact. 

“Cool!” Toby exclaimed, the fire burning in his bright eyes. 

“Do you want to touch it?” 

Raising a hand, Toby cautiously let his fingers drift towards the blue flame. At first he pulled away, nervous that he might burn himself. But then he drew closer, finally allowing his hand to graze Dipper’s. The moment they touched, Dipper found himself reminded of Bill and the time they shook hands, the first time he felt that slip of fire in the soft space between his fingers. The memory rippled against him, long suppressed but still prevalent and powerful. But this time nothing happened. When Toby’s hand touched his, he didn’t feel fear or the sensation of his soul being tugged out. He felt calm. 

“It doesn’t hurt me,” Toby remarked. “But you burned that gnome before.” 

“Well, it depends on how I use it. Fire is dangerous, it burns things and people. But it can also be warm and nice.” He sighed through his nose, breath catching in Toby’s golden hair. The sun began to set overhead, washing the two of them in a pale blue glow. “I know I keep a lot of stuff from you. And I’m sorry that I do. I can’t tell you everything just yet, but you’re old enough to know some things. There will be fewer secrets from now on, okay?” 

“Okay,” Toby muttered, still entranced by the wafts of blue flame that curled and danced around his fingers. 

It wasn’t the full truth. But it wasn’t a lie either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever but it was a lot of fun. I enjoyed the opportunity to sort of poke fun at Tourist Trapped by reusing some of the plot and dialogue, as well as referencing other parts of the show. But its also one of those chapters that's a break from the intensity. Sometimes things can be sweet.


	10. Roadside Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unwilling to go back home and brace the unknown, Dipper allows himself and Toby to get a little distracted.

Time passed in a near-idyllic fashion. In the weeks of their camping trip, Dipper hid under the cover of the forest's natural magic. It was just enough to mask his presence, like supernatural radio static. The intention was only to stay long enough to lead Kryptos and the gang of demons off their trail. At night he would send Isolation to stake out the house for any spying eyes. Other times he would sneak away just long enough to cause a ruckus in Canada–making it seem like he had chosen a new hideout and was on the run. 

But mostly, Dipper felt he could let his guard down. They were safe within the shade of trees in Gravity Falls. And for once, he felt like they could be a normal family. He took Toby hiking across the forest telling old stories about Manotaur caves and the hidden realm of unicorns. They went swimming in the lake, suspiciously aware of the Gobblewonker that swam beneath their feet. They cooked smores over an open blue-colored fire. He even toyed with the idea of moving back to Gravity Falls with Toby; it was safe and comfortable there. The false normalcy didn't have to fade away. 

But he knew he couldn't do that. 

Isolation returned one morning and sat itself at Dipper's side. The fresh air was wet and cool, the sun just starting to pull it's way up through the sheer windows of their tent. Toby was curled up in his thermal regulating sleeping bag, blonde hair stuck up in tufts. Sometimes Dipper just liked to watch Toby sleep and sit with the tides of his dreams.

In the silence, Isolation spoke. _"It's safe, you know? To go back home. Nothing has been to the house in days and I sense no magic there, not even yours. It's clean. They think you've fled."_

"A few more nights won't hurt," Dipper replied. "If we wait just a little bit longer and I… I don't know... set a grocery store in Quebec on fire or something, then I'll feel safe." 

_"You said that a few nights ago."_ Isolation nudged its head under Dipper's hand, an attempt at being comforting. _"So long as you stick to your plan and don't get caught, you'll be safe. No demon is going to think you brought Toby back to the same house. Or you know,"_ it glared at him with a sarcastic set of beady eyes. _"You could just tell Toby that you are a demon and that you are trying to keep him safe. He is a good child. He would understand."_

"Stop suggesting that, you know why I can't do that," Dipper groaned. He looked down at the little lump wrapped up in a sleeping bag. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through Toby's hair, trying to comb away the knots that accumulated over night. "It's the same reason why I can't let him live here in Gravity Falls. The more he knows about me or the town, the more he's going to learn about Bill. The less he knows the safer his mind is from Bill's tricks." 

_"So take him home before you encounter any more accidents, like with those gnomes."_

"That was one time," Dipper grumbled. "It's not going to happen again." 

Toby stirred in his sleeping back, the dream enchantment wearing off. "Dad?" he grumbled. "Are you talking to someone?" 

"No," Dipper replied, almost too quickly. "I was just thinking." 

"Out loud?"

"Yeah." 

"What were you thinking about?" 

Dipper rubbed at the space between his neck and shoulders. Isolation gave him a dark eyed glare. He hated it when the nightmares were right about something. "I was thinking we should go home today. We've been here long enough." 

Toby yawned and flopped onto his back, hazel eyes blinking open. "Good. I miss sleeping in my room." 

"Hey! It's not so bad sharing a tent with me." Snickering to himself, Dipper flopped back on top of Toby, letting his shoulders fall against Toby's stomach. "I thought we were having fun!" Toby squealed with laughter as he tried to roll away, squirming and kicking. Really, it was all to stall, delight in the moment just a little longer before they headed back into the clutches of the unknown. 

——— 

The car hummed down the road. Dipper tried to swallow his nerves. He wanted more time to plan and prepare. But Isolation was right. He couldn’t keep Toby in the forest forever. It would be fine. He had to believe it would be fine. Right? He had faced bigger threats than this. 

A sign loomed overhead through the peak of trees and hills, it’s holographic lights blazing: Annual Roadkill County Carnival! Games! Rides! Food! (with performances by Giovanni the Great). A little holographic man in a top hat, presumably Giovanni, did a little dance. It was cheesy. Dipper rolled his eyes. 

Toby pressed his face against the window, breath fogging the class “A carnival! Dad, can we go?”

Dipper didn’t really trust these kinds of roadside carnivals. They always had a lot of fake magicians, rusting and tetanus ridden rides, and deep fried snack foods that would give any human a heart attack. They always reminded him of Stan, a con waiting to happen. But yet again… it would give him a chance to stall just a little while longer. And it was just close enough to Gravity Falls that Dipper still felt safely tucked away under the cover of strong, natural magic. “I guess a little roadside distraction wouldn’t hurt,” he said with a sly grin as he turned into the next lane. 

Pulling off the highway and onto the concrete parking slab, Dipper watched as Toby barreled through the backseat of the car and out into the open carnival. "This is cool! They have a ferris wheel!" Of course it was a magic ferris wheel that was composed of a few floating seats spinning in a circle through the air. 

Dipper nodded, following closely behind Toby with Isolation at his heel. "Maybe they have games. My Grunkle Stan taught me that the secret to winning is to throw something at the carnie's head and steal the prizes." As they passed through the entrance, he flippantly waved a hand towards the ticket booth distorting the attendant's perception as to not realize they had walked in without paying (or that they had brought a dog). 

The inside had an old-world feel to it, despite the overwhelming presence of futuristic technology and magic. Delighted screams still pierced the open air and everything smelled like motor oil and corn dogs. An electric sign was posted just on the outer rim of the carnival, listing out all the activities and show times that were available. "So," he said, "what should we do first? They have one of those cool zero gravity rides if you want to float around." 

Toby stared at the sign for a moment and audibly hummed with thought. "Let's watch the demon guy! He has a show in 5 minutes." 

The lightbulbs blinked: GIOVANNI THE GREAT'S DEMON WRANGLING EXTRAVAGANZA [showtimes at 10, 12, 2, 4]. Dipper scoffed, "Demon wrangling? That sounds pretty fake, kiddo. I've dealt with a lot of demons in my time and you can't really wrangle them." 

"Maybe you can show him how much better you are." A smug smile peeled across Toby's face. 

Dipper raised an eyebrow, "Are you trying to use my pride against me?" Toby gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're getting to be too smart. Fine, we'll go see the demon show." 

As Toby cheered with success and marched off towards the show, Isolation bit at the back of Dipper's pants to slow him down. _"I'm surprised you're okay with this."_

"I lived at the Mystery Shack, I know a con when I see one. It's all going to be faked. No one can actually wrangle demons. It's going to be animals with charms on them or people in bad suits. Now come on, we can't let my 7-year-old run through a carnival unsupervised." 

The stage consisted of a metal base, the rivets and clasps worn and rusted from overuse. Large color changing lights strung high over head while a holographic sign displayed the show's title in bold grand letters. A thick red curtain separated the audience from backstage (what Dipper could only assume was actually a trailer parked directly behind it), the fabric occasionally rustling with movement. Benches were placed in a proscenium style around the stage, Toby finding a seat in the middle right hand side. Dipper sat down beside him with Isolation laying down beneath the bench. He crossed his arms and chuckled, "This looks pretty cheap. There aren't even safety precautions for the audience." 

The multicolored lights flickered and Toby gripped a hand to Dipper's arm. "Shhh it's starting." 

The curtain rustled. A man in a tacky pale blue suit and cape secured with a rounded gem appeared to the cheerful applause of his audience. He appeared to be young, in his late 20s to early 30s, yet the roots of his otherwise dark hair seemed stark white. A piano played a quick and vibrant tune as he waved and blew kisses to the crowd. "Hello America!" he said in what was definitely a fake Italian accent. 

And that was when it hit Dipper. The familiarity felt like needles against his mind, or like when an old injury starts to act up and you feel the strain on your muscles. Like a STOP sign suddenly flashing WALK. He knew this soul. Dipper clenched his fingers around the wooden bench, loose splinters breaking against his skin. The name hissed through his teeth. 

"Gideon." 

Of course, it was Gideon. Who else could be so tacky yet overly confident? Who else would have the audacity to wear _pale blue_?

Toby looked up at him curiously. "His name is Giovanni. It's written on the sign." 

It was no wonder Toby was so drawn to the show (and perhaps why Dipper was so lenient to let it happen), souls often had that tie to each other. Some kind of instinctual habit to seek out the old and familiar. But it had been a long time since Dipper had met any other incarnation of someone he knew. And now, not only did he have Bill on his hands, but Gideon too. 

The crowd dulled so a quiet hush. Giovanni paced the stage dramatically, swishing his cape a few times. "Thank you. Thank you. I am very honored to be here today, to show you all an artform that took me years to master. Demon wrangling is very dangerous and not for the faint of heart. But fear not, I will protect you lovely people." 

Dipper audibly scoffed. 

Giovanni held up both arms. "Shall we get started?" The audience cheered as Giovanni motioned for a stagehand to wheel a cage out. Within the bars something small and circular clattered inside. Dipper couldn't make out many of the details, there was a burlap hood tossed over the creature, but he could see 2 wings protruding from it. Dipper bit down on the inside of his cheek. 

"This," Giovanni explained, "is a minor demon known for its ability to turn people to stone! They are agents for the most powerful demons in the world. And I will battle one here on stage for you. Remember, it is never safe to approach demons without years of experience and licensure! Now I give you," Giovanni grasped the clasp holding the cage shut. "An eyeball bat!" He released the creature out into the audience, the hood still pulled over its eye. 

It flapped around manically, unable to see where it was going due to the hood tossed over it. It crashed into a few of the lights and grazed its wings against the tops of the audience's heads. Dipper found his breath catching in his lungs. Eyeball bats weren't just agents for powerful demons, they worked with Bill Cipher during Weirdmaggedon. They traumatized Gravity Falls and turned the townsfolk into statues. The memory was still fresh in his mind. Instinctively, he put an arm around Toby's shoulders as if to turn him away from the sight. But Toby was grinning with fascination. 

Audience members screamed with a delighted terror at the eyeball bat flapping over their heads. "As you can see the eyeball bat has been blinded for your safety. If it cannot see then it cannot turn its victims into stone," Giovanni assured. 

Meanwhile the eyeball bat tried to fly upwards, seeking its escape from the carnival sideshow. "It looks like our friend is trying to escape! Allow me to reign it back in." Raising his hands in the air, Giovanni summoned a bright blue light to surround the eyeball bat. It was like a tractor beam tugging the creature towards the stage. The audience oo-ed and ah-ed at such strange magic. 

Dipper leaned in, his curiosity spiked. As Giovanni commanded the eye bat forward, there was something faint glowing at the base of his neck. Upon closer inspection, Dipper could see that the blue gem holding Giovanni's cape shut was cracked and formed back together with glue. It hit another spark of memory, like a guitar strumming a chord. "The mystic amulet," he muttered. "Oh no this is not good." He thought Mabel had destroyed the amulet some thousand years ago. But at some point it must have been repaired without his knowledge. 

It was one thing for a soul to have preferences. People tended to like the same things in their lifetimes, such as performing or wearing an awful pale blue. But Giovanni had sought out both the mystic amulet and an eyeball bat. Two things from a past he did not remember. 

As Giovanni used the amulet's telekinetic powers to pull the eyeball bat down, the creature struggled, flapping and trying to reach higher into the sky. The eyeball bat jerked upwards, knocking its midsection against one of the overhead lights. The burlap sack covering its eye latched onto the metal hardware and ripped away. For a moment, the eyeball bat was disoriented, unsure of exactly where it was. But then it was angry. 

As the audience screamed with fear, Giovanni's concentration broke, releasing the eyeball bat from the amulet's grasp. He was dumbfounded, mouth hanging ajar. He quickly tried to compose himself and addressed the audience. "Do not be frightened. I will wrangle it once again." But before he could attempt to confront the bat, it shot a red laser at him, turning the metal stage beneath him to stone. He squealed frightfully and tried to duck away from it. 

That was when the audience scrambled, trying to flee the scene or hide underneath the benches. Dipper gripped tightly to Toby, pulling him out of the way from panicked carnival goers. The eyeball bat adjusted its attention from Giovanni to the rest of the crowd, a deep anger somehow visible in its expressionless eye. It fired another laser into the crowd, luckily not hitting anyone. It was clearly still disoriented. Pulling Toby down to the ground, Dipper spoke in a commanding tone. "Hide under the bench with Iggy, okay? Don't let the eyeball bat see you." He then shared a knowing glance with Isolation, who immediately leapt in front of Toby and bore all of its teeth. 

Standing up, Dipper bounded from bench to bench, positioning himself in the center of the proscenium. As the eyeball bat continued to fly around he called up towards the air. "Hey, over here!" The bat turned its gaze towards him. Dipper could see Giovanni peer out from his hiding place behind the curtain, a look of both fear and fascination on his slack face. “That's right. Come pick on someone your own size!" It paused for a moment before firing a petrifying laser at Dipper. He tossed up a barrier between himself and the laser, narrowly avoiding being turned to stone. This only aggravated the eyeball bat. It angrily lurched at Dipper the full force of its single glowing eye nearing up towards him. But that was exactly what Dipper wanted. It was like what Giovanni said, eyeball bats were agents of powerful demons. And Dipper was very powerful. 

As the bat came face to… eye with him, he temporarily let his human appearance drop, revealing the rows of sharp teeth and dark, endless eyes. "Stop," he commanded. The eyeball bat did so, now flapping obediently in the air. He then motioned the burlap sack still hanging from the stage lights. It levitated from its place and wrapped itself around the eyeball bat once more, causing it to flap and struggle with surprise. He then grabbed it by the back of its wings and dragged it back towards its original cage. Up close he could see it was inscribed with runes for binding and anti-magic. Typically, Dipper would have preferred just to kill it or send it back to the mindscape. But that would blow his cover, and he already risked so much just by stopping it. 

He pulled the latch down on the cage, once again trapping the eyeball bat inside. He sucked in a deep breath, the illusion of tired surrounding him. There was a moment of silence that hung in the air as he wiped the back of his arm against his forehead, trying to simulate wiping sweat from his brow but really making sure to cover up his eyes as they shifted back to a very human brown. 

In the aftermath of the chaos, a few people rose from their hiding places, helping each other up. They all turned their attention to Dipper, leaning over the caged creature. They were stunned, certainly shell-shocked. But then a few of them managed to clap. They were actually applauding him. Dipper waved a very stiff hand back at them. 

You know, he didn't get enough credit for all the helpful things he did. Any other demon wouldn't be bothered by the idea of an eyeball bat petrifying hundreds of innocent people, but it bothered Dipper very much. He wanted to help people, he really did. But sometimes help took the form of violence. He always ended up with the reputation of a blood-thirsty monster. But this time it was nice to just be thanked. 

A few slow and spaced out claps came from behind him. Giovanni stepped out into view, his aura growing red at the center. He was mad, and of course he was. He just failed to wrangle a demon and was shown up by a random guy in the audience. "Yes, yes. Thank you, kind sir. You have quite the knack for demon wrangling." 

"Oh uhhh I'm a demonologist," Dipper replied sheepishly. "I'm just doing my job." 

Giovanni's smile was threatening. "Well we are all in debt to you. Please everyone, allow me to apologize for the accident. Pick up a coupon for a free corn dog at the admission stand, my treat." That made the audience grumble and march out of the show area. 

At that moment, Toby ran up to the stage and leapt up onto it. He threw both arms around Dipper's waist in a hug. "I told you you were so much better! You stopped that eyeball bat!" 

Dipper placed a hand on Toby's head. "Are you okay, kiddo? Are you hurt?" 

"Nope! I'm good!" 

Dipper sighed with relief. But he was also getting tired of fighting demons and gnomes. Why couldn't he catch a break? 

Giovanni pointed down at Toby, "Pardon, but is the little one yours?" 

Dipper nodded. "Yes, this is my son." 

Toby looked up and waved, "Hi Mr. Giovanni! I liked your show! And your fancy cape." 

"Well, if it is alright with you, sir. I was hoping we could have a word with you alone. I cannot thank you enough for saving my show and re-trapping the eyeball bat." Dipper glanced at Giovanni. His aura was all red now, his intentions dark and malicious. "I have some extra coupons I can give to your little one. For some rides and games, he'll be able to play safely while we speak." He reached into his pocket and pulled them out, presenting them to Toby. 

Dipper didn't like to leave Toby alone and Giovanni's dark intentions had him worried. But then he looked back at the mystic amulet clasped around Giovanni's neck. He had to warn him about the power of the amulet. It sent Gideon down a path of madness and destruction. There was a chance he could save Giovanni from its power. Reluctantly he nodded, "I'd like a moment to speak with you too." Toby took the tickets from Giovanni and thumbed through them excitedly. Kneeling down, Dipper placed a hand on Toby's shoulder. "Stay close to here, okay? Don't go with any strangers. Come find me if there's an emergency. And keep Iggy with you." 

"Okay!" Toby said, leaping off the stage with Isolation in tow. "I'm going to go get a slushy!" 

A sigh escaped through Dipper's nose. He had enough surprises for one day. He just wanted everything to go smoothly. 

Giovanni pulled back the curtain, revealing the doorway to a trailer. "Please, sir. Come with me." Dipper nodded and passed through the barrier. 

The inside of the trailer smelled like harsh chemicals and takeout food. There was a vanity splayed with several boxes of black hair dye, obviously the cause for the burning smell, and illuminated with white lights. Behind Dipper the stagehands hauled the eyeball bat into the trailer and placed its cage on the floor besides an empty one. There were several other minor demons caged up, many stacked on top of each other or hanging from the ceiling. They screeched with inhuman noise, and the few that could speak growled and spat curses at them. Their eyes all followed Dipper around the room and began to hush at his presence. They could sense the truth about him. 

"Do you have a name, stranger?" Giovanni's fake Italian accent was gone, now replaced with a Southern twang. 

"Tyrone Pines," he replied, keeping a steady and threatening eye on the other demons in the room. 

"Well, take a seat, Tyrone," Giovanni said, extending a hand towards the couch behind him. He then took a seat at the vanity, cape sprawled out around him. 

Dipper did so, not wanting to appear rude or demonic in any sense. He folded his hand uncomfortably in his lap. "Listen, Giovanni, I need to ask you about something." 

Giovanni cut Dipper off, not caring what he had said or if he had even said it. He took a brief moment to examine his hair in the mirror, frowning at the white roots poking through. "That was some fine demon wrangling you did there. I've never seen anything like it in all of my years of performing." 

"Like I said, I'm a demonologist. I've worked a lot of strange and dangerous cases. But I have to talk to you about–" 

"You see that's the thing," Giovanni continued. "I've seen a lot of demonologists. I've watched them fight demons and your techniques don't look like theirs. The eyeball bat just stopped right in front of you." Giovanni fiddled with the mystic amulet at his throat, but not absent mindedly. It was intentional. "I've also never seen a demonologist with eyes like yours. Black and gold." 

Lightning shot down his spine. Dipper tried to tell himself to be calm, but found it very difficult to do so. He swallowed, his mouth and throat mimicking the feeling of being dry. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"I think you do." A smirk tore into Giovanni's face. "Alcor." Dipper felt himself pale. No one had ever figured it out before. He had never thought about the possibility that it could happen; that he was being too reckless, too self-assured. Giovanni chuckled, mostly to mask the fear that was bubbling in his thick yellow aura.

He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. When he opened them again the brown glamor was gone, replaced with something much much darker. "Am I really the demon you want to mess with?" he said, voice low and hollow. He flexed his fingers, revealing a thick set of claws. 

Giovanni raised a quick hand, trapping Dipper in a pulse of blue light. He tried to move, barely able to raise his arms. It twisted at him, latching back on any moment he managed to break free. It wound up around his neck as if trying to strangle him. Giovanni's mouth went slightly slack as Dipper struggled to break out of the amulet's grasp. "That actually worked. I mean," he cleared his throat. "Of course it worked. I'm Giovanni the Great! Master demon wrangler!" 

Dipper could vividly remember the time Gideon trapped him within the amulet's telekinetic pull. The way it squeezed at its throat, how it could lift him in the air and throw him against the wall. It was the first time the mystery and the adventure of Gravity Falls stopped being fun and he realized the danger he was in. He tried to convince himself the danger was lesser this time, that he was stronger and more powerful than Giovanni. But it didn't change the fear he felt. The amulet inhibited his powers and his ability to escape. If he managed to break free, it was likely that his raw magic would blow the surrounding area up— hurting innocent people and Toby in the process. The only thing he could think to do was use reason.

"That amulet," he said, voice strained. "It's dangerous. You need to give it to me right now." 

"Sure I will, demon. Right after I teach a pig how to wear pants and tap dance." 

The amulet's weight started to bear down on him, slowly chipping away at his human disguise. "No listen to me, Gid–Giovanni. I want to help you. I've seen this amulet before. It corrupts your soul and turns your hair white. That's why you're using all this hair dye. You need to give it to me so I can destroy it before it corrupts anyone else."

"You think I don't know that," Giovanni snapped. "I've read the legends. This amulet has brought me more power than I could have ever imagined. I might be a little sideshow host now, but I have big plans. Starting with you." He rose from his seat, a bulging eyed corruption boiling underneath his skin. "Other demons would pay me handsomely for a chance to kill you." He curled his fingers inward, as if mimicking squeezing a stress ball. 

Dipper felt his knees buckle as the blue light grew tighter. He only needed to break Giovanni's concentration, but it was clear nothing he could do would frighten or distract him. He dropped his head down diverting his attention elsewhere. "Isolation," he muttered, calling for the nightmare. "Isolation. You were right, I messed up again. Please. I need your help." 

\-------- 

Toby pried the bubbled plastic lid off the cup of his vibrant red slushy. He tipped it to its side, letting some of the cold sticky syrup dribble down the edge and onto his fingers. Iggy held his mouth open wide eagerly with sharp teeth glinting. Iggy would eat anything. Toby let a glop of the cherry slushy fall into Iggy's mouth. He slopped it around with his tongue, smacking and licking at the dribbled remains. 

Toby laughed, tilting the cup back upright and using a plastic spoon to scoop some out for himself. "Don't tell Dad I'm sharing with you. I'm not sure dogs are supposed to eat cherry slushy. But you seem okay." Iggy let his now red-stained tongue hang out of his mouth as he flashed what looked like a smile. He slurped down his next spoonful of slushy, a cold pit forming in his stomach. 

The sounds of the fair were like an echo in his ears. The creak of old metal and the hum of voices all mixed in together. He sat down at a metal bench, setting down his slushy and starting to thumb through the free tickets Mr. Giovanni had given him. The demon wrangler was a strange man. Toby liked his cape and over dramatic performing style. But there was also something… Toby didn't know the word for it. Maybe fascinating? Curious? Whatever it was, it made Toby feel a spark. 

He continued to flip through the tickets. "What next Iggy? Do you want to ride the ferris wheel with me? Or there's a petting zoo. How do you feel about sheep?" 

Except Iggy wasn't paying attention to him with the same usual enthusiasm. Iggy had his ears pulled back, a serious and pointed look in his dark eyes. Pulling back his lips, he snarled through his front teeth and then released an angry bark. Toby stood up, abandoning his slushy and free tickets on the bench. "What is it, Iggy?" Iggy dashed forward a few steps, still snarling. He looked over and barked at Toby urgently and then cocked his head, as if calling for the boy to follow. Toby ran after him, following Iggy back to the demon wrangling stage. Iggy hopped up onto the stage and poked his head through the curtain. Toby jumped up after him, taking a few deep breaths. "What's wrong?" He went to move towards the curtain separating the front and back stage when Iggy growled again and knocked him back. Iggy made a motion with his head as if to say "stay here" and then pounced through the back of the curtain. 

Toby inched closer, compelled by curiosity and peeled the curtain apart with his fingers. A flash of blue light and the sound of barking filled the air. He took a breath and stepped towards the trailer. "Dad?" he called. No reply. 

He crept up towards the door and creaked it open. The light became more intense and the smell of chemicals and smoke became overpowering. He coughed into his shoulder and stepped inside. Metallic rattles vibrated through the room as the eyeball bat and various other creatures Toby had never seen before squawked and groaned in their cages. Some of them oozed slime onto the floor while others snapped their thousands of dull yellowing teeth. A whimper escaped Toby's throat as he backed away from them. 

Looking to his left, he caught sight of Giovanni, both hands raised and a bright pulse of electric blue surrounding him. His cape fluttered like little wings in an invisible wind. He sneered as Iggy tried to bite and pull on his leg. He kicked Iggy aside carelessly. "Did you really call your pet to save you? How pathetic!" His southern accent hit Toby with a sense of shock. If the grand Italian accent was a lie, then what else was? "Do you know the things I've done! The pain I've endured to get this amulet! I won't be distracted!" And then, trapped within the light, as if frozen in amber was his father. He writhed, trying everything to escape. 

"Dad?" Toby said again, fear wavering in his small voice. 

His father looked over, desperation hanging off of his face. But there was something strange about his eyes, they looked so dark in the pale encapsulating light. "Toby," he shouted. "Toby you need to get out of here right now! I don't want to hurt you!" 

That was when Giovanni's attention turned to him. Toby felt himself shudder and shrink down in the midst of the demon wrangler's gaze. "And you've called on the little one too. You must be desperate." Taking his left hand, Giovanni slashed in Toby's direction, a pulse of magnetic light moving towards him. 

Toby shrieked and ducked back, clattering into the eyeball bat's cage. The bat clattered around inside, its wings nipping against Toby's cheek and shoulder. As it panicked and thrashed, the base of its burlap hood became slightly loose, hanging from its rounded exterior and exposing part of its yellowing iris. Toby scrambled back on his hands and the back of his feet as the bat turned to look at him. It could see, meaning it was just a few moments before he would be turned to stone. He closed his eyes and held his breath. But nothing happened. 

He blinked open one eye. And then the other. The bat was not angry or violently thrashing in its enclosure. Instead it was calm, just barely hovering off the ground with each solid flap of its black wings. It was eerily still as if patient… as if waiting. 

Toby crept forward. The bat held no reaction to his fingers looping around the cold metal bars of the cage. He glanced from the eyeball bat to Giovanni and then sucked in a breath. "Go get him." Then he traced his fingers along the clasp that held the cage door shut and let it swing open. He ducked out of the way as the eyeball bat escaped into the trailer, knocking against all the other cages, toppling over a bottle of black hair dye across the vanity and onto the rough carpet. 

The bat then bashed into Giovanni's face, knocking him into a back wall. The moment Giovanni fell backwards the blue light coming from his hands and the base of his neck faded. Toby watched as his dad stumbled to his feet, carefully putting a hand to his head, momentarily obscuring his eyes. Iggy ran across the trailer, jumping over a flailing and panicked Giovanni. He bounded up to Toby's side, sinking his teeth into the back of his shirt and trying to drag him towards the door. His dad blinked around the room, brown eyes wide at Toby and then shifting to Giovanni who was attempting to pull the hood back over the eyeball bat. 

Without another moment of hesitation, his dad scooped him up in his arms and bolted for the door. He didn't say anything. In fact he was eerily silent. There was no indication of his breathing at all. Followed by Iggy the three of them ran back into the open carnival grounds and ducked behind a random ring toss game. His dad set him down against the grass, very gentle as he did so, before leaning up against the back of the wall. 

Toby watched him for a moment. He was so still. He didn't look like someone who had just been running or captured by an evil magician. Instead he just looked pale with nervousness. Iggy paced over, placing both paws on his shoulders and licked encouragingly at his cheek. Finally, he looked over at Toby. "You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have followed Iggy back there and you shouldn't have released that eyeball bat." 

"But you were in trouble," he replied. "And the eyeball bat didn't hurt me!" 

"That's not the point." There was a snap to his voice. Not angry, but sharp with worry. "You could have gotten hurt or worse. If you think I'm in trouble, that means to need to run as far away in the opposite direction as you can." 

Toby chewed on the inside flesh of his cheek with disappointment. He thought his dad would at least be a little bit happy or proud of him. "Why was Giovanni angry at you? Was it because you're better at demon wrangling than he is?" 

His dad nodded. "Uhh yeah. That was it. He was really jealous." 

"Are you angry at me?" 

His dad perked up, confusion settled deep within his face. Then he reached over with one arm and pulled Toby in close, tucking his head under his chin. "No. I'm not mad at you. Just worried. I can't let anything bad happen to you." Then he stood up, momentarily blocking out the sun. It made him look dark and unfamiliar. He extended a hand to Toby. "We need to go home. It wasn't a good idea for us to come here." 

Iggy ran around and bumped his head against Toby's back to get him to stand up. Toby looked back up again, the shadows consuming his father's face. There was something very strange about him. Something that made Toby feel like there was a cold pit in his stomach, like he was drinking a cherry flavored icy. Something that zipped against the back of his skull. He reached up and took his dad's hand, comforted by the familiar touch. 

\------ 

Giovanni sat in the destruction, fingers carefully holding his pen to the paper. His hair splayed around his face, revealing the hidden patches of white he tried so desperately to cover up. He sucked in a breath, lungs still aching and burning. The eyeball bat throttled in its cage, the sound of its new chains banging into the metal bars like a symphony. He pushed his hair back, beads of sweat inching their way down his forehead. 

A nerve struck as he clenched his jaw. He had been so close. None other than Alcor the Dreambender caught in his grasp. It seemed the world's most fearsome demon had gone soft, unable to defend himself except for a pathetic little nightmare glamored to look like a dog and a nosy little child. The child seemed sweet with big hazel eyes and soft locks of pretty blond hair. He was the poster child for innocence. 

How hilarious. 

Giovanni set down his pen, looking down at the blue inked summoning circle, scouring it for imperfections. Opening one of the drawers from his vanity, he pulled out a wrinkled and folded piece of aged paper. He spread it out across the table, reading the inscription once and then twice over. Then he rose from his chair, straightening out his cape and trying to push his hair back into a presentable fashion. Giovanni chanted the inscription, watching as the summoning circle burned a dark and released gray, sour smelling smoke. 

The being that appeared before him was not the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. In fact it was somewhat ridiculous to look at. Its body flat like a diamond and notched along the side. Giovanni had seen scarier things. But nothing could prepare him for the violent gaze the being had, the cold radiation of hunger and bloodlust. It spoke in a creaky voice, painful to listen to for too long. "How dare you summon me like this? No candles or offerings. Who do you think you are?" 

Giovanni swallowed and bowed, a flick of his cape dancing off his fingers. "I am Giovanni. Your humble servant. And I come with an offering of information." 

The being seemed unamused. "Information." 

Reaching over to his vanity, Giovanni whisked the old and worn piece of paper from it. He held it out, displaying its contents to the immortal being before him. 

BOUNTY 

BILL CIPHER (INCARNATION) 

Giovanni smiled, unable to hide his smug confidence. If he could pull this off, he would be rewarded handsomely. "I've located the incarnation you seek. The boy was here, escorted by Alcor the Dreambender." 

The demon Kryptos grinned, distorting his once nonthreatening features to be sharp and pointed like knives. He tapped his fingers together, seemingly pleased with Giovanni's work. A chuckle escaped him, high pitched and warbling. "Do you know which way they went?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this take the cake for the most direct references to Gravity Falls in any chapter of any fic I wrote. I felt I couldn't introduce the 2 main villains of this story without going ham on the show's canon. I want them to fit nicely into TAUs world and in order to do that I felt it was best to ease them in on a tide of familiarity. 
> 
> Also I had some fun. I like the challenge of making Gravity Falls and TAU meet that feels realistic and welcoming for both of them.


	11. The PTA vs The School Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper attempts to challenge the school board when they make magic studies classes mandatory for all students.

School gymnasiums always had that smell. Something a little dusty and murky. A bit like floor polish or old plastic. Dipper leaned back in his hard, plastic chair, eager to get the school’s yearly “meet your teacher and other various announcements day” out of the way. Since the incident nearly a year ago when a minor demon attacked the school during a botched safety demonstration, the school had rightfully upped its demonic activity. There were clearly anointed water sprinklers on the ceilings and anti-demon runes etched into some of the walls. It wasn’t enough to prevent him from entering the building– he had a lot of practice feigning as a human and sneaking into places where he didn’t belong. But they made him extremely uncomfortable. Dipper found himself continually scratching at his arms and back, desperate to pop out his claws and shred at his skin. Though the itching was annoying (and slightly embarrassing), the wards at least made the school one of the safest places to hide Toby. 

From the plastic chair next to him, Toby gave him a confused glance. “Why are you so itchy? Are you allergic to school?” 

“Yup,” he replied, rubbing the space between his shoulders against the chair. 

At the front of the basketball court, the principal raised her MagiOrb to the top of her podium. Behind her stood an array of people Dipper assumed were important: the school nurse, a woman in an ill-fitting pencil skirt, and an old man in a tweed suit. “Hello, parents and students. We’re very excited to be here with our second grade class today. I’m Dr. Goldstien and before we get started sending students off to their classrooms to meet their teachers, I have an announcement to make.” Usually Dipper didn’t pay attention to the announcements. (Did that make him a bad parent?) They were usually boring updates about the new lunchroom refurbishments or that a new secretary was hired. He continued to distractedly rub the sleeve of his flannel shirt against his arm.

The principal cleared her throat and continued to speak in a very sharp but friendly voice. “The school board has decided to make some changes this year to the curriculum. These changes come from the demon attack that happened at last year's safety demonstration, in which a demon was accidentally summoned on school property and an officer was killed.  
While we were thankfully able to continue the school year, this event did not go unnoticed by faculty and students alike. Due to the rise in demonic influence in the area the school board has made the decision to make magic and occult studies classes mandatory for all students starting in the second grade. These classes will focus on standard runes, safety, demon identification, and Transcendence history.” 

Dipper suddenly sat upright in the chair, temporarily ceasing to scratch at his human form. “You can’t be serious,” he said a bit too loudly. 

While Dipper knew the day would always come that Toby would learn more about demons and the Transcendence, magic and occult studies classes weren’t supposed to start until the 7th grade. He figured he had until then to tell Toby the truth, nor did he want anyone else trying to explain the Transcendence to his son. Especially not the American public education system. They always told the story wrong. 

Dr. Goldstien turned her head and frowned with displeasure. “Do you have a question about the changes to the curriculum… Mr.?” 

Realizing that he had caused a scene, Dipper stood up and forced his hands to hang down by his sides. “Tyrone Pines. I was the one who stopped that demon last year. And I’m not entirely sure it’s a good idea to teach occult magic to children.” 

The principal nodded. “And we are extremely grateful for all you’ve done for our school. But it is important to the faculty and to the school board that we educate our children early on the true nature of demons.” 

“Trying to educate the kids is what started all of this. Demonology is dangerous and the kids should be older before they go messing with it. How do I know the school is qualified to handle this?” 

The old man standing behind the principal tapped her on the arm and eased up to the podium, offering to speak on her behalf. He was dressed in a brown twill suit and tie, like a snooty college professor. Dipper couldn’t describe it, but there was something sticky about his aura. Something that seemed wrong and dirty. “Hello everyone. I am Dr. Bane, the new magic and occult studies teacher. I can assure you that I am very qualified to teach this class. I have over 30 years of experience as a demonologist, a PhD, and I served as a specialist for the National Handbook for Children’s Occult Safety. The demonic activity in this area has spiked very rapidly and we believe this is the best way to ensure your children’s safety.” 

Dipper took extra offence to that. 30 years of experience as a demonologist was nothing compared to over 1,000 years of actually being a demon. “Come on, man. Demons love it when children get involved. I know, I was personally there at the demon attack 4 years ago in the European Republic. The one where they burned an orphanage down? I have a say when it comes to my child.” 

“Now-now, Mr. Pines,” Dr. Bane gave a smug, wrinkled smile. “Let’s not set a bad example for the children. As a qualified professional yourself, I’m sure you can respect that I know significantly more about teaching occult studies. Try not to turn this into an argument.” 

Dipper felt a soft growl form at the back of his throat as a scowl plastered to his face. 

Returning to the podium, the principal held up her magi-orb to amplify her voice into the room. “Mr. Pines, you are welcome to speak to me in private but I am afraid the school board has made its decision. I cannot change it. Now if we can all move on, I’m sure your children are anxious to meet their teachers.” 

With a groan, Dipper flopped back into his seat and continued to scratch furiously at his arms. Demons hated a lot of things, but know-it-all demonologists were near the top of that list. Dr. Bane didn’t even realize who he was talking to! He wouldn’t have the audacity to speak that way if he knew he was speaking directly to Alcor. Something poked into the skin of his arm. Looking down, he realized a set of claws had extended from his fingers and dug through his flannel shirt. He retracted them and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to hide the now-gaping holes in the arm. 

Toby leaned over and whispered, “You must be super allergic to school. You’re kind of cranky.” 

“Yeah,” Dipper replied. “That’s what it is.” Stupid magical wards. Stupid demonologist. Stupid school. 

\-------- 

Toby roamed around the classroom, the bright posters on the wall detailing times tables and the parts of speech, pointing out his cubby hole for his lunchbox and his snow shoes in the winter. “I get a cubby and a hook for my coat and backpack!” he exclaimed. 

Meanwhile, Dipper was trying not to rub his back against the wall like a bear scratching itself on a tree. “You’re moving up the levels of school supply storage. Someday you’ll have a locker.” 

A slender hand tapped twice against Dipper’s shoulder. He whipped around, still on edge from the earlier conversation. A thin woman in a pink cardigan smiled at him and held out her hand, “Hi, I’m Susan. My son Jacob is in this class and I wanted to introduce myself.” 

For a moment, Dipper was unsure how to react. People usually didn’t speak to him, mostly because he radiated a somewhat uncanny and uncomfortable aura. He wasn’t particularly interested in playing nice with the other parents. While Dipper could pretend to be an adult, acting like one was a little harder. “Tyrone,” he said, shaking her hand back. 

“You know,” Susan continued, “I just need to say that I fully agree with what you told the principal. I do not feel comfortable with my son learning so much about demons. And that Dr. Bane, I don’t trust him one bit.”

Dipper shrugged and laughed under his breath. “I’m glad it’s not just me. His aura is kind of suspicious.” 

“You have strong instincts, I can tell. I’m very good at reading people,” Susan said with a misplaced confidence. Then she over and whispered into Dipper’s ear, her index finger stringing around her pearl necklace. He could feel her breath on his ear. “You know, if you ask me, the school board should really be listening to you. You saved all those children last year. It was so brave of you.” 

A warm flush spread across Dipper’s cheeks as he leaned away from Susan. She made him more uncomfortable than any anti-demon ward. “Uhhhh… thank you, but it was nothing really. I’ve faced worse.” He itched at the back of his neck nervously. She was uncomfortably close and kept fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“Exactly, you’ve probably seen more than that stuck up Dr. Bane has. You should come to the PTA meeting tonight. We’re challenging the school board to remove magic studies classes. We’ll really stick it to the school board president.” 

“You can do that?” Well, that certainly seemed like a better idea than his plan to steal Dr. Bane’s car and throw it off a cliff as petty revenge. 

“With you on our side, I think the school board will have to listen to us. The meeting is at 6 pm in the multipurpose room at City Hall. I’m baking some lemon squares. My secret recipe is to die for.” 

He shrugged, “I guess I could come.” Mostly, he was excited about the lemon squares. 

Susan smiled, “Of course you’re coming. You’re our secret weapon.” Then she walked away, waving a hand and summoning her son to her side. Other parents were really weird, and that was coming from him. 

Toby appeared at Dipper’s side and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “What did that lady want?” he whispered. 

Dipper shrugged, “She asked me to come to some parent meeting tonight.” 

“She seems weird.” 

“Definitely weird.” Then he slung an arm over Toby’s shoulders and proceeded to walk him towards the door. Using his free hand he went back to scratching at the space between his shoulder blades. “Let’s get out of here. My school allergy is acting up.” 

\------

Dipper had seen a lot of cults. A lot. But none of them achieved the same level of intensity that the PTA did. The PTA had an agenda that was printed and handed out to every parent upon arrival. Everyone greeted each other in a ritualistic fashion where they tried to brag about their children and their jobs until the other one felt bad about themselves. The PTA representatives even wore little pins on their freshly ironed cardigans. It was a form of suburban occultism he had never seen before. But the lemon bars were good; cults never provided freshly baked snacks. By that point he had eaten at least 5. 

He had also never taken Toby along to any cult meetings either, for obvious reasons. But finding a babysitter who was prepared to handle potential demon attacks on such short notice was nearly impossible. So Toby sat in the chair next to him, doodling a picture of a shark with a jetpack on a pad of paper. “What are we doing here?” he asked. 

“I’m meeting with some other parents about the school. It’s boring grown-up stuff.” The thought of grown-up stuff made Toby grimace and return to his doodle. 

“Tyrone,” Susan called, trotting down the rows of chairs. The little pin on her cardigan winked in the bright overhead lights. “I’m so glad you could make it. And you brought Tony!”

“Toby,” Dipper replied flatly. 

“Right.” Susan didn’t seem all that interested. “I was hoping you could speak about your objections towards the magic studies class and your experience with demons in the past.” 

“Uhhh...” 

Susan then wrapped her hand around Dipper’s wrist and forcibly jerked him out of his chair. “Fantastic. You can come up to the front with me!” As Dipper was dragged across the carpet, he motioned for Toby to remain seated in his chair. Susan released her grasp on him as she marched up to the podium. She cleared her throat and addressed the PTA. “Everyone, it’s officially 6 pm. Please grab some lemon bars and take a seat.” The PTA did so amid muffled conversation and the sound of their shoes scraping against the old, graying carpet. “To review the minutes from last week, remember that the district bake sale is this upcoming Saturday. All goods must be homebaked: don’t even think about purchasing something from the store. Because I will know.” Then she laughed forcibly, with the rest of the PTA chiming in. And Dipper thought cults were weird. “For our first order of business today, we have a special guest here to address the recent addition of magic studies classes to the curriculum and a parent’s right to choose what path is best for their child. Everyone say hello to Tyrone.” 

Dipper stepped up to the podium. You think being a demon would make him a skilled public speaker, but Dipper had no idea what to say. “‘Sup?” he said, a nervous crack in his voice. 

“Tryone is the demonologist who rescued the first grade class last year. He’s basically a local hero,” Susan encouraged. “He’s going to explain his thoughts on the magic studies class.” 

“Uhhh yeah. Well, I’ve had a lot of experience with magic and demons and I think it could be dangerous if children learn about these things too soon.” Susan rolled her hands forward to indicate that he keep speaking. Dipper sighed and looked into the audience where Toby continued to draw on his notepad. “What I mean to say is that demons will find any opportunity to hurt children. When I was young, I got involved in magic. I thought I knew how to take care of myself but I didn’t. So I ended up invoking the wrath of a powerful demon who possessed me and tried to kill my family. I don’t want anything that happened to me to happen to my son. I encourage the safe study of magic, but it should be done when children are older… when they can handle the truth about magic and demons. I don’t want my son taking this class. I don’t want him to get hurt because of it.” 

Susan quietly applauded, her hands touching but not making any sound. “Thank you, Tyrone. We’ll now open the floor for other parents to come and share their feelings. Martina, our secretary, is taking notes to help compile an argument that we will present to the school board at the end of the week.” 

Dipper took this as an opportunity to duck away from the podium and return to his seat. He slouched down in the chair, feeling hot but unsure why. His chest felt uncharacteristically heavy, as if there was real weight to it– lungs and a heart. He tried to zone out the rest of the meeting and watch Toby draw his picture. 

Glancing up, Toby looked at him with curious hazel eyes. “Why don’t you want me to take the magic class?” 

For some reason, he didn’t think Toby would pay attention to anything he said. But Toby was curious and absorbed every detail he could. “Because it's dangerous.” He kept his voice low, as not to let the rest of the PTA hear him.

“But we do dangerous stuff all the time!” Toby whined. “What about that weird demon guy at the carnival? Or those gnomes?” 

“Shhh,” he urged, trying to get Toby to keep his voice down. “That’s different.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” he fumbled around for an excuse. “Those were accidents. Demons, real demons, will stop at nothing to hurt you. And the more you know about magic or the Transcendence, the less safe you are. Okay?” 

Toby huffed and crossed his arms. “But I want to learn! I like demons and magic stuff. Why can’t I learn? 

Shaking his head, Dipper brushed back Toby’s hair and forced him to look up. “It’s just not safe for you. I’m sorry, kiddo.” 

Grumbling, Toby slumped in his chair, a pout on his face. “I just want to be like you,” he muttered under his breath. 

Usually, that was the sentence that any parent would love to hear. That their child looked up to them as a role model. But it just made Dipper choke. He leaned down, still careful to keep his voice low. Moving his hands to Toby’s shoulders, he tried to be as gentle and comforting as he possibly could. “That’s what I’m trying to protect you from. I don’t want you to become what I am. A lot of bad things have happened to me because of magic and I won’t let them happen to you.” 

Toby thought about this for a while, averting his gaze to the floor. He had been aware for quite some time that something had happened to Dipper, something that also put him in danger. But it was clear the lies and excuses weren’t enough to convince Toby that this was all for the best. Toby sighed, his breath winding through his hair, “Okay.” He shrugged his shoulders, forcing Dipper’s hands away from him. 

Leaning back into his chair, Dipper decided not to push Toby any further. Toby had every right to be upset with him. 

“Let’s have a five minute break while we finish taking notes,” Susan announced from the podium. “Please enjoy some lemon bars.” Dipper was no longer in the mood for lemon bars, even if they really were that good. 

  
  


\------- 

By the time Friday rolled around, and the day the PTA was going to confront the School Board, Dipper felt entirely sick to his stomach. A few hours after the PTA meeting, Toby didn’t seem too upset with him. He was his usual self, but Dipper could tell by his aura– bluing around the edges– that something was still wrong. 

But this was the best decision? Right? All parents make choices their children don’t understand. What if learning magic put Toby in more danger? What if more demons attacked the school? What if Bill entered his dreams again? It just wasn’t worth the risk. 

So why did he feel so guilty? 

The meeting between the PTA and the School Board was held inside the school gym, meaning Dipper once again had to brace the school wards and the itchy feeling that ran across his fake skin. The chairs were arranged in neat rows all facing to a podium and a table where the School Board sat. Within the audience, he could see the school principal and the demonology teacher, Dr. Bane, chatting with each other. As he clawed desperately at his skin, Toby sat beside him, arms crossed and clearly displeased. For a moment, Dipper stopped scratching. “Are you still upset with me?” 

Toby thought about it and then nodded. “A little.” 

“But do you at least understand why I’m doing this?” 

Toby nodded again, but said nothing. 

As the president of the school board approached the podium, Dipper felt something behind him. A shadow loomed over Dipper’s right shoulder and a high pitched voice pierced his ear. “Hello, Tyrone.” He nearly jumped out of his seat as Susan leaned over him, her intense perfume filling the air. It required a lot for a human to surprise him like that; mostly it required them to be obnoxious in ways he could not anticipate. 

“Hey, Susan,” he replied, slightly annoyed. 

She scurried around his chair and sat beside him, making sure to smooth out her light salmon cardigan and show off her PTA pin. Her short hair was rounded into an oval, almost football like-shape. She reminded him of the parents at his middle school. Somethings never seemed to change. “I hope you’re ready for today. I think our case will surely win over the school board if you speak on our behalf.” 

Dipper looked over at his son and then back at Susan. “I guess…” 

At that moment the president of the school board, tapped two fingers against her MagiOrb, the sound echoing through the room like a microphone. Dipper leaned back in his chair, watching her with a careful intent. “Hello? Can everyone hear me? I would like to thank all of you for joining us today. It is encouraging to see so many parents who are invested in their children’s education.” She tucked a lock of thick brown hair behind her ear. “I want to begin with an opening remark before we hear from the parent representatives with us today. While I know this magic studies class is unconventional, I saw it within myself to personally present this curriculum change to the school board. I was a teacher in this district for 11 years before being elected to the school board, and during that time I had children of my own. I always believed my children were under the best care and education possible. As parents, we believe we will always be there to protect them. But I heard a demon attacked the school last year, I asked myself ‘what happens when there is no one who can save my child? What happens when I am no longer around?’ We got lucky that day, but not all days are so lucky. As adults, we are not infallible, even if we think we are. So I proposed this class, not because of my confidence, but because of my fear. Such an incident will happen again. And who will be there to save my children, if not themselves?” 

The room was silent on the outside. But Dipper could hear the rage of swarming thoughts; the type of dread that only radiated from adults thinking about their children’s safety. It was a dread he knew too well. 

The president of the school board spoke again, “And now we will hear a statement from Susan Mark, the PTA president.” 

Susan tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, urging him to follow her up to the podium. Dipper did so, too blindly occupied with his own thoughts to even reject. She hauled him up to the podium, demanding he stop just at her left side. Scraping a few strands of bright blonde hair from her face, Susan smiled, almost maliciously. “Thank you for such interesting opening remarks. But the parents of the PTA stand firmly against the introduction of magic classes to the curriculum. If any of you recall, it was a careless demonologist sent to teach our students about safety who allowed this demon to enter the premises and was ultimately killed. I see no greater proof that magic studies would only allow more of these incidents to happen. Magic is dangerous and it has no purpose anywhere within the public education system. First we introduce magic and then our children are," she huffed out a breath with rage. "Becoming corrupted by demons and gnomes. To back up these claims I’ve brought Tyrone Pines to speak as the demonologist who saved our children last year.” She stepped back from the podium and extended her arms forward, signalling it was his turn. Dipper didn’t answer. “Tyrone, this is your cue,” she whispered. 

Except he wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at Toby, sitting in his chair at the back of the gym with his bright eyes, and thinking through the 107,831 situations where it all went wrong. Dipper had been so preoccupied with the idea of protecting Toby he forgot something important: Kryptos and the other demons wanted him dead too. He was immortal, not indestructible. He could be captured or killed at any moment, leaving Toby alone and without protection. Toby needed to learn. 

Dipper took a step forward and spoke directly into the MagiOrb, not one taking his eyes off of Toby. “I rescind my argument and fully support the introduction of magic classes to the school.” 

There was an audible confusion in the room, both the chatter from mouths and the rush of thoughts. From the back of the room, a smile broke on Toby’s face. 

“I beg your pardon?” Susan asked. 

“Magic comes with a lot of risks,” Dipper replied. “And I will continue to hold the school accountable for ensuring it is taught properly. But I’ve been wrong to put my own fears before my child’s safety. I’ve been attacked by a lot of demons in my life. And if knowing how to use anointed water or Transcendence history will protect my kid from that; then that’s how it has to be.” 

The school board seemed pleased with his change of heart, as did the school staff and principal, all nodding from their prospective seats. Well, except for Dr. Bane, who’s hard frown was plastered onto his face like a permanent wrinkle. He squinted, as if trying to get a better look at something.

Meanwhile, Susan had turned beat red. Sticking out a finger at him she hissed through her teeth, “You’re going to regret this. As the president of the PTA, I’ll make sure you and your child are ostracized.” 

“You know,” Dipper said with a smirk. “I’m not scared of your little cult.” As he turned around to walk back to his seat and stage whispered to her, “Also, I recreated your secret lemon bar recipe.” There was nothing more rewarding than watching her face crumple up like a piece of paper. 

\------ 

When the dust settled, and the votes were counted, the school board announced the magic studies class would remain mandatory for all students. Toby tugged on Dipper’s shirt, exclaiming with excitement that the first spell he was going to learn would be fireball; and Dipper would remind him that fireball was too high level a spell for a 7-year old. But that didn’t change Toby’s enthusiasm at all. Amid the groups of people walking past, Toby pretended to launch fireballs at them, making explosion sound effects as he did so. 

“You remind me of myself at your age,” Dipper remarked with a chuckle. “I’m glad you’ll have an opportunity to learn magic in school.” 

“Me too,” Toby said. Then he lurched over, wrapping both arms around Dipper’s waist. “Thanks for changing your mind.” 

At first Dipper smiled, it was good to see Toby so happy. But then he frowned. There was still one more thing he had to do if he was going to let Toby learn about magic, and therefore the Transcendence. Dipper knelt down, scratching at his left side with his right hand. The wards were starting to irritate him, like they had somehow gotten stronger. “Listen, there’s something else I should tell you. About me. But we’ll have to go somewhere private.” 

“Mr. Pines,” a voice boomed from beside him. So many people had been able to sneak up on him today; it had to be all the wards in the building messing with his sense of perception. Dr. Bane approached, fiddling with the buttons on his tweed suit. “I must say I was shocked to hear you change your mind on the class.” 

Dipper slowly rose to his feet, going back to scratching at his side and praying his human form would hold up a little while longer. “Well, I’m a parent. We do ridiculous things when it comes to our kids. I only want what’s best for Toby.” 

Dr. Bane raised a gray, straggly eyebrow at him. “Are you alright? Do you have some kind of rash?” 

Slowly, Dipper pulled his hand away and tucked it behind his back. “It’s fine,” he responded.

“My dad is allergic to school! It makes him itchy!” Toby eagerly replied. 

As Dr. Bane scrunched his mouth up in confusion, Dipper laughed, perhaps too quickly and too awkwardly. “Toby has a very vivid imagination. I’m sure you’ll enjoy having him in class and hearing all of his ideas.” Manifesting a watch on his wrist, Dipper pulled his arm from behind his back and checked it. “I’m sorry to cut this short but we need to go. It was nice talking to you Dr. Bane.” Taking Toby by the hand, he walked towards the wooden double doors leading out of the gym. 

“Yes, my pleasure,” Dr. Bane called out. 

Toby stumbled a few steps behind before keeping pace with Dipper. “What did you want to tell me, Daddy?” 

Dipper looked back over his shoulder at Dr. Bane. A wave of ill ease shot down his spine. Something wasn’t right here. He sighed, changing his mind about what to say. “Just that I’m sorry for not listening to you sooner. I was wrong to ignore your feelings.” 

As they made their way out the doors and through the parking lot, Dr. kept a careful eye on the father and son. “How peculiar,” he said to himself before turning around to meet with the school board. He was looking forward to having Toby in class. Perhaps he could figure out what made the two of them such an odd family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Near the end I realized this chapter was just adults having meetings and being petty. Which is boring. But as an adult who has worked in education and goes to a lot of meetings-- that just be how it is. This is the price we pay for a story about domestic life.


End file.
